


Million Dollar Man

by soyane



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consensual Infidelity, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Rimming, Sugar Baby Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-02-19 12:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2388203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soyane/pseuds/soyane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a student, who'd much rather focus on writing articles and participating in conferences than working to pay for his bills.</p><p>Zayn might have a proposition for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A while ago I came up with this idea of a sugardaddy au with Zayn and Harry, and I wrote a few snippets for this storyline on my tumblr. And now I decided to turn it into a proper fic :) I hope some of you will like it, although it is awfully self-indulging.
> 
> If you feel like it - come talk to me on givehazababy.tumblr.com  
> I'd love to discuss some ideas:)
> 
> Title from Lana del Rey's song. Because she gives me so many sugarbaby feels.

_

 

You see, Zayn’s got a pretty perfect life. He’s running a successful company along with his best friend, he’s got a smart wife, two wonderful daughters and a dog he’s always wanted. He lives in a villa he and his wife, Perrie, designed by themselves – it’s off the beaten track but still close enough to the city – just like he always wanted, too.

 

But lately, some long forgotten longing has come over him. It makes him more withdrawn from reality. It makes him stare wistfully at the dew drops in the yard on misty mornings. It also makes him want to grab a charcoal, a Bristol and sketch.

Some would say that he’s going through his middle-age crisis. And – yeah, maybe he is. He’s 36 after all.

He doesn’t think he is, though. He doesn’t have a sudden urge to leave his family and home behind, and head off on a trekking trip through Europe. He also has no desire for an affair or divorce.

He’s just… Itching.

For something FRESH, for something NEW.

Perrie lights a cigarette and stands next to him.

‘What are you thinking about?’ she asks. She’s not looking at him, but staring outside the window.

‘Just… things,’ he shrugs.

She doesn’t say anything else for a while, just stands there and inhales and exhales the smoke of the cigarette. Zayn’s always liked her presence. It’s light, undemanding, unassuming. He’s never had to drop everything and run to her, and she’s never had to either. They respect each other’s space, but still are together. They ought to be teaching this on a university, Zayn thinks, the two of them, just how they are.

‘I think I’d like to meet someone,’ he finally says.

‘As in a woman?’ Perrie asks, her voice and demeanour unchanged. She hasn’t turned to him yet, either.

‘Not necessarily, no. Just – a person.’

Inhale, exhale.

‘And what would you do with this person?’

‘Talk. Get fresh perspective…’ he trails off and looks at her. She turns to him.

‘Is this something that you feel you really need?’ She looks him in the eye as she asks.

Zayn remains silent for a minute.

‘I feel that I need this, yes.’

She nods and stabs her cigarette on a silver ashtray.

‘I’ll think about it,’ she says and starts walking away. ‘ _Perspective_ ,’ she snorts and shakes her head a bit.

‘Thank you,’ Zayn calls after her and smiles a little. That’s exactly why he married her.

 

***

As it turns out, Zayn doesn’t find his new perspective right away. Not even in the span of two months. He’s getting restless, the need almost burning in him from time to time. He knows he must be acting antsy as Liam started shooting him questioning looks and Perrie raises her eyebrows everytime he lights a cigarette. And he does it twice as often now.

‘I thought this was supposed to make you feel better?’ she asks once, a hint of irony in her voice.

He doesn’t answer her, but doesn’t blame her either. It’s true that he’s a lot less like himself lately. He’s almost tempted to browse through offers on sugarbaby sites, but somehow it doesn’t feel right.

He doesn’t need a pretty face, he needs someone… stimulating. Well, a pretty face would be a nice bonus, obviously. As it is, finding someone like that is harder than he thought. Or maybe he just lost his touch. He tells Liam as much.

‘No, I’m pretty sure you haven’t lost it,’ he says, amused, then in the next moment he furrows his brows in confusion. ‘What is it that you’re looking for, anyway?’

And well, it’s not like he can’t tell Liam – they are friends, after all – but for whatever reason he wants to keep it to himself. At least for now.

‘Just a thought,’ he replies shrugging his arms and goes back to wondering if this itch of his will go away on its own. It probably would, but the thing is – he doesn’t want it to. Opportunity, that’s what he needs.

It’s already October when opportunity eventually arises.

 

***

Harry’s sitting at the kitchen table, tapping at his keyboard. His housemates are getting louder and louder, and he’s got a deadline on finishing his article and he’s not going with it anywhere right now, staring at the screen and trying to concentrate. On top of that, he feels an impending headache. The tell-tale whoop from the living room informs him that his mates have started yet another round of never-ending video games tournament.

‘Harry, we got pizza!’ Chris shouts. Chris is the first friend Harry made on campus and the most considerate of his housemates.

‘I’m good, thanks!’ he exclaims back and sighs. He won’t get anything done here and he knows it. He packs his laptop and throws a jacket on.

‘I’ll be at the nearby café, have fun,’ he says and it gets him a few waves from those not engaged in a game or eating pizza. He shakes his head with a fond smile nonetheless, and steps out. It’s already getting dark.

He thanks whatever deity that listens for a café so close to his place as he goes just there. It’s a nice and quaint place without an ‘old spinster’ vibe. Harry likes going there and as soon as he enters he goes to grab a coffee.

He’s making his way to a free table when he notices a man immersed in the newest issue of Forbes. Harry mentally slaps himself as he remembers that he’d need the newest stock market markings to finish his article. He decides to approach the man.

‘Hiiiiiii,’ he says, trying to catch the man’s attention. He’s about to take a sip out of his cup when he hears Harry and stops midway to his mouth. He raises his eyebrow and looks at Harry.

‘Yes?’ He says hanging his voice expectantly.

‘Hi. Um, I was wondering, if you’d maybe let me look at the stock market markings? I’m writing an article about a group of copartnerships and it would do nicely in there,’ Harry proceeds explaining. ‘But, um, if that’s any trouble at all, sir, that’s perfectly alright, too.’ He shuffles his feet awkwardly.

‘Perfectly alright,’ the man repeats, amusement clear in his voice. He folds the magazine and slides it to Harry. ‘Please, do help yourself.’

Harry smiles as bright as the sun and reaches for the magazine.

‘You can sit here, too, you know. It’d be perfectly alright, as well as comfortable,’ the man says sipping on his coffee.

Harry flashes him a grin.

‘Thank you, sir,’ he adds and busies himself with browsing through the magazine for needed information. After a while, he gets out his laptop too, and writes a few notes and references.

‘So, if I may ask, what is the subject of your article?’

Harry lights up like a Christmas tree.

‘I’m writing about the Skyscrape Holding, about the companies it encompasses and I’m analysing the last quarter of the year of its activity.’

The man looks surprised. ‘And what are your conclusions, then?’ He asks, a smirk dancing on his lips.

‘Oh, for that I’ll need to find more information,’ he points to the opened Forbes between them. ‘But I think that the rate at which it’s developing and expanding is unprecedented.’

‘I see. So, you’re interested in economics?’

‘More in politics, sir. Economics is fine, too, but I’m a political science student.’

‘And the article is for the uni newspaper?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You should try and send it to a real newspaper - maybe even Forbes,’ he winks at him.

‘I’ve tried doing that a bit, one time got posted in an online edition,’ Harry says. ‘Sorry, I’m bragging.’

‘That’s no problem. It’s important to be proud of yourself and to be aware of your value.’ Zayn shrugs.

‘Yeah, I think so, too.’

The man gets up to leave.

‘Listen-‘

‘Harry.’

‘Harry. Listen Harry, I’ve got to go but if you ever wanted to talk some more about economics or politics, or just to grab my Forbes,’ he smiles warmly at that. ‘Here, that’s my card. Have a good day.’

‘You too, sir. Thank you.’ Harry says. The man is already at the door when Harry notices that he left without taking his magazine.

‘Excuse me! Sir! You left your-‘

‘It’s yours. Good bye,’ and with that he’s out of the door, leaving Harry with the newest issue of Forbes, half-formed conclusions and a business card.

Harry looks at it.

ZAYN MALIK

 

_CEO, SKYSCRAPE, INC._

 

Well shit.


	2. Chapter 2

_

 

 

Harry’s angsting over his talk with Zayn Malik for the next couple of days. He calls his sister and the first thing he blurts out is ‘I met Zayn Malik!’ So, there’s that.

 

After finishing his article he also spends quite a lot of time pondering whether to contact Zayn or not. He seemed quite open and inviting, and let’s not cheat ourselves, knowing him or even exchanging a few messages with him could be to Harry’s advantage. Hypothetically. Considering his plans for future. Which are really fluid, but. The point stands – Zayn Malik is really influential and knowing him wouldn’t hurt.

 

A few days of biting his lip later, he sits to his laptop again and logs in to his e-mail. He scrolls through various social media notifications, reads an online issue of The Economist and calls his mum to confirm that he’s coming over this weekend.

 

He has prepared a dinner for later and done  week’s worth of laundry when he finally decides to e-mail his article to Zayn, along with a short ‘thank you’ note.

 

 

 

 

> To: [zayn.malik@skyscrape.uk](mailto:zayn.malik@skyscrape.uk)
> 
> From: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: ‘Skyscrape Inc. – Reaching for the Skies?’ an article.
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Sir,
> 
> thank you for your Forbes. Please find an article attached.
> 
>  
> 
> Yours faithfully,
> 
> Harry Styles

 

 

He feels surprisingly light after pressing ‘send’. He grabs his phone and always-ready-to-go messenger bag and heads for uni in a much calmer state of mind. He’s not gonna get any answer anyway, so why stress himself out, right?

 

***

Wrong.

 

He’s studiously taking notes during a lecture on history of politics when his phone vibrates on his folder startling him. He checks it and sees an e-mail notification at which his heartbeat speeds considerably.

 

He looks up only to see that the lecturer has gone through the next couple of slides and finished discussing the last issue Harry has notes of. He sighs – might as well check on that e-mail.

 

 

 

 

> To: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: Article
> 
>  
> 
> Harry,
> 
> I can call you by your name, right? The article was great, have you thought about becoming a market analyst? With your insight it’s something you should really think about. You could also try setting up a blog with your articles – I have a feeling it’d attract both economic and political circles. It’s just a suggestion, though, don’t feel pressured :)
> 
> This is my private e-mail, feel free to contact me anytime you want. I mean it.
> 
>  
> 
> Very much impressed,
> 
> Z.M.

 

 

Harry stares at his phone hardly believing his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. He rereads the e-mail three more times before he manages to snap out of his daze only to find that the lecture has come to an end. He thinks briefly that he’ll have to ask someone for notes and maybe offer a coffee in return, packs his things and goes out of the class still slightly shocked and not noticing anything around him.

 

***

 

It’s Thursday and that means their neighbours are over for dinner and although it irks Zayn a little, he has to admit it provides a much needed distraction. And it’s not that he doesn’t like Pam or Steven, he does, he’s just unconsciously made other plans for the evening (like rereading the article and replaying can-I-borrow-your-Forbes-sir scene).

 

Perrie is observing him the whole evening. He wonders if he’s acting any different than usual and she’s noticed, or if it’s just to check on him. Zayn thinks he might be giving off an anxious vibe. When he saw the e-mail from Harry this morning, it... It has moved something in him.

 

He responded almost immediately, being conscious enough to do it from his private address. Now that he’s done it, he can’t help but wait for the boy to write him back. Well, he may not and that’s what keeps Zayn on edge. He hopes he will, because he feels that Harry could be just the right person to scratch his itch.

 

He looks up and his and Perrie’s gazes meet. He surely has all of it written all over his face, because her eyes widen in realisation for a moment before she excuses herself from their living room. Zayn makes a conscious effort to pay attention to their guests.

 

‘Zayn, you know what? We really should go golfing sometime,’ Steven says to him.

 

‘Yeah, definitely. It’s been too long since I last kicked your ass,’ he adds playfully, causing Pam to laugh.

 

‘Hey! I wasn’t in shape then, it’s not fair!’ Steven exclaims.

 

‘You tell yourself that,’ Pam adds and she and Zayn share a conniving glance before breaking out in laughter again.

 

Maybe it is a good thing that they came over after all, Zayn thinks. He feels a bit stupid being so anxious about a possible message from some student. Even if there is definitely something about him. Really, he thought he got cooler than that.

 

That’s just the thing, though, isn’t it. It – or _Harry_ – makes him feel like when he was a student. Enthusiastic. Reckless. In need of thrill.

 

‘So, what’s her name?’ Perrie asks later on in the evening, when Pam and Steven already left bidding them a good night. She busies herself with collecting cutlery and tableware on a tray. Zayn looks at her attentively before he answers.

 

He clears his throat and she stops and lifts her gaze at him.

 

‘It’s Harry.’

 

‘A boy, then.’

 

‘Yeah,’ Zayn goes over to her and takes the already full tray out of her hands. ‘But it’s not for sure. I’ve just met him.’

 

Perrie’s silent for a while, biting her lip and frowning. Zayn puts the tray on the table and reaches out and touches her cheek.

 

‘Nothing’s set, yet. I can still withdraw and drop this idea,’ he mutters under his breath and presses a soft kiss to her lips. They stay like this for a while, Zayn rubbing circles with his thumb over the palm of her hand.

 

‘No, it’s not that,’ she finally says. ‘I said that I wouldn’t mind that and I meant it. It’s just… This makes it real, you know?’ Zayn nods in understanding.

 

‘Yeah, I know,’ his voice is soft. ‘I promise I’ll stick to what we’ve agreed upon.’

 

When Perrie told him she thought about him ‘meeting’ someone and that she was willing to agree provided some rules were set, they stayed up into the early hours of morning talking about what kind of arrangement Zayn would commit to and what it would entail. They came up with a set of rules, which were in effect for both of them.

 

This admission gets him a smile from his wife.

 

‘I know you will,’ she says, and the atmosphere turns considerably lighter. ‘Let’s finish the cleaning now, shall we?’

 

Zayn smiles back at her and takes the tray back to kitchen. In this exact moment his phone lights up with an e-mail notification.

 

***

 

By the time Harry comes back to his dorm he’s fidgeting. He reheats the dinner and collects his laundry to keep himself busy. He’s self-aware enough to know that he won’t be able to do anything other than mechanical chores before he writes to Zayn again. It’ll probably seem like he’s an overenthusiastic newbie, but the message Zayn wrote to him got him so excited that he doesn’t care.

 

Also, it really sounded like Zayn wanted to keep in touch. For whatever reason. He doesn’t really think that it has _that_ much to do with his article or analytic skills. Sure, he’s doing alright, but he’s a long way from being as good as professional journalists are. Besides, it’s more of a hobby – in the future he rather sees himself in Parliament. Politics and lobbing, that’s what really interests him.

 

He opens his laptop and decided to go for what he genuinely thinks. It can either go really well with Zayn, or terribly wrong. And well. If the second option is the one to be, then he’ll get rid of that anxious feeling at least. So.

 

 

 

 

 

> To: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: RE: Article  
>   
> 
> Dear Mr Malik,  
>   
> 
> thank you for your kind words. Hearing them from someone as experienced and successful as you is more than I could ask for.
> 
> Your idea of setting up a blog sounds really good, I’ll definitely give it a thought.
> 
> Would you mind if I asked what do you think of my blog ideas, when I already have them?  
>   
> 
> Sincerely,  
>  Harry Styles

 

He’s mostly glad with the outcome – not too long, not too short, just one question to keep the conversation going…

 

***

 

_20 th October, 10.30 a.m._

 

 

 

> To: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: Blog  
>   
> 
> Harry,  
>   
> 
> I’m so glad to hear you’re considering that idea. If you make up your mind, you should definitely let me know. I’d love to share my opinion and advice with you. Although I don’t think you’d need either of them.  
>  Thank you for all the compliments – one would think that after several years of being in the business I’d be used to hearing them, but apparently not.  
>   
> 
> Hope you have a good day,
> 
> Z.M.

 

_25 th October, 1 a.m._

 

 

 

> To: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: RE: Blog
> 
>  
> 
> Dear Mr Malik,
> 
>  
> 
> I’m almost sure I’m going to go with your idea and set up a blog and I just thought I’d let you know. I’m currently thinking of a professional URL, before I start doing anything. I’ve been quite busy with course work and job, didn’t really have time to give it much thought. However, next week I should be able to do some planning and I have a feeling I’d be in need of advice.
> 
>  
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Harry Styles

 

 

_25 th October, 2.30 a.m._

 

 

 

>  
> 
> To: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: Student life
> 
>  
> 
> Student life must’ve changed a lot since my years at Uni, if you’re writing e-mails to me at 1 a.m. ;)  
>     
>  Can’t wait for your blog ideas, I’m really curious about them.
> 
>  
> 
> Z.

 

_25th October, 2.45 a.m._

 

 

 

 

> To: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: RE: Student life
> 
>  
> 
> I’m sorry! I got back from work and forgot how late it was. I’m really sorry. Hope I haven’t woken you up, sir.
> 
>  
> 
> H.S.

 

 

_25 th October, 3 a.m._

 

 

 

 

> To: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: RE: RE: Student life

 

 

 

> Never said it was a bad thing.
> 
>  
> 
> Good night, Harry.

 

 

***

 

The semester is definitely not starting off slowly, and only three weeks in Harry questions whether he will manage the course work, job and working at the paper. He’s determined, but he’s also really tired.

 

Although his classes for the day start at midday, Harry knows he has to go to the library and start his research on an essay for history of politics. Theoretically he still has two weeks to write it, but time tends to fly by with a schedule as busy as his.

 

So he gets his ass off the bed at 8 a.m., aware that he’s slow in the mornings, and even clumsier than throughout the day. He’s tired and in dire need of coffee – he didn’t really sleep much, as he was too hyped up by the unexpected exchange of e-mails with Zayn.

 

Which ended in him bidding Harry a _good night_.

 

He gets a weird, clenching feeling just remembering that. Not to mention how casual the messages were.

 

He shakes his head at himself and goes about getting ready for the day, doing only the absolute minimum and leaves for the library.

 

It’s already 10 a.m. when he’s gathered books and organised his workplace to be able to do some effective research. Knowing how much he can get distracted by his phone even if no one’s calling or texting him, he throws it into his bag, and concentrates on a task at hand.

 

He’s immersed himself in the research so much he jumps in his chair when someone pats his back. He lifts his head to see a pretty blonde – Alice, a girl from his group.

 

‘Hiya Harry, aren’t you going to the lecture?’

 

‘Oh, hi Alice,’ he greets her and looks around for a clock. ‘What time is it?’

 

‘Quarter to twelve.’

 

‘Shit! Yeah, I… I just need to take these books back and I’m off,’ he says as he gets up quickly and starts closing the books.

 

‘I can help you with that, if you want?’

 

Harry knew he liked her for a reason.

 

‘If you would be so nice. Thanks for stopping by me,’ he smiles at her brightly.

 

‘No worries, you seemed really focused so I just thought I’ll remind you.’ She says and they put the books at the front desk, the librarian taking them immediately.

 

‘You’re the best, really, I don’t want to miss this lecture, ever.’

 

‘Yeah, me neither. It’s so packed with information it spares me hours of additional research.’

 

‘I know, right?’ Harry opens the door for her and they take ‘their’ seats. They may only be three weeks in, but the ‘this is my seat for next three years’ rule is already in force.

 

As soon as Harry fishes his notepad and mobile out, the professor comes in and begins the lecture. Harry checks his phone to change the settings to ‘silent mode’ and notices an e-mail notification.

 

And maybe really curiosity killed the cat, but he knows he won’t be able to focus if he doesn’t check it, like now.

 

 

 

 

> To: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: 10 a.m.
> 
>  
> 
> I forgot to ask – where do you work that you get home at 1 a.m.?

 

 

Oh. So they’re keeping up with the casual mood of the last night’s exchange. Harry’s perfectly alright with that. He types up a quick response and gets back to taking notes.

 

 

 

 

> To: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: RE: 10 a.m.
> 
>  
> 
> At Waitrose. Had an evening shift. Actually, I’ve got lots of evening and overnight shifts, resulting in me writing mails at questionable hours.
> 
>  
> 
> H.S.

 

Harry really wants to participate in the lecture, and take his very own notes, but when the answer from Zayn comes almost immediately, he knows he’s doomed. He figures he’ll just ask Alice for her notes again.

 

 

 

 

> To: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: -
> 
>  
> 
> Don’t worry about the hours – it’s e-mail, I check it when I can and want to.
> 
> Are you tired much, then?

 

 

 

 

> To: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: -
> 
>  
> 
> I am, very much so. I need at least two more coffees to function properly. How about you?
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> To: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: -
> 
>  
> 
> I’ve been more tired in my life. Never going to say no to coffee, though. Are you busy?
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> To: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: -
> 
>  
> 
> I’m in a lecture right now. Not even paying attention. Why?
> 
>  
> 
> To: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: -
> 
>  
> 
> We should go grab a coffee. We could talk about your blog. What do you say?
> 
>  
> 
> To: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: -
> 
>  
> 
> _‘Never going to say no to coffee.’_
> 
> To: [h.e.styles@gmail.com](mailto:h.e.styles@gmail.com)
> 
> From: [m.a.lik@gmail.com](mailto:m.a.lik@gmail.com)
> 
> Subject: -
> 
>  
> 
> Perfect. Write me your number and when your lecture ends. I’ll pick you up.
> 
> Z.

 

 

Harry does just that, and only after does he spare a thought to how surreal it is. He’s going to grab a coffee with chief executive of one of the British best developing companies, that he accidentally met few weeks earlier.

 

He’s not sure how that is his life now, but he very much likes it.

 

There’s still half a lecture left and feeling hyped up about meeting with Zayn, which gives much needed spike of energy, and also a bit bad about not paying attention at all for the first half, he dedicates all of it now to his professor and starts scribbling furiously.

 

_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, next chapter. There will probably be more chapters than six, but I'm still planning and outlining, so for now I'm not changing it.
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and to everyone who commented - you really make my days and make me try so that this fic won't suck. Thank you.
> 
> If you want, you can talk to me at givehazababy.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

_

 

Meeting with Zayn for coffee or lunch is slowly becoming a regular thing. It does wonderful things for Harry’s budget, because Zayn always insists on paying for both of them and then he or his chauffer drive Harry to wherever he needs or wants to be.

 

It’s another day like this, Harry leaving class and going straight to the bus stop – Zayn can’t come and get him, so they settled on meeting in a restaurant that is both close to Zayn’s office and ridiculously expensive.

 

From time to time Harry wonders if he’s a shallow person for enjoying dining in all those luxurious places Zayn takes him as much as he does. Or if that means that he’s calculating. But – he just likes nice things and nice places, that’s not really wrong, is it?

 

It’s also what he was used to back home, his parents taking him and his sister every now and then for dinner, or hosting fancy tea and dinner parties for their friends. Harry loved them, getting all the attention and learning how to make acquaintances. You could say he was a real social butterfly.

 

Well, he still is, he just has significantly less opportunities now.

 

‘You always this deep in thought while walking?’ Zayn says quietly, his voice low, appearing out of nowhere by Harry’s side. Harry feels a shiver run down his spine – he was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice Zayn walking up to him.

 

‘Zayn, hi,’ he turns and smiles at him. ‘And sometimes, I’ve been told I have a ruminating nature,’ he adds, the corner of his mouth quirking up teasingly has Zayn’s gaze set on his lips.

 

‘We’re here,’ they come to a stop in front of a restaurant which surprisingly still has some tables outside, even though it’s already half of November. ‘I was thinking we could use today’s nice weather and eat outside,’ Zayn adds, leading Harry to a corner table.

 

The weather really is particularly nice, sunny, only a few clouds here and there and it’s unusually warm, too.

 

‘Alright,’ Harry shrugs and sits down, a waitress already handing them menus. ‘I should thank you, you know,’ he says, pretending to be immersed, perusing the hors d’oeuvres section.

 

‘Should you, now?’ Zayn asks and Harry can just tell that he did that only to amuse him and–. That feels quite nice.

 

‘Yes, you rescued me,’ Harry looks at him over the edge of the menu. ‘from possibly the most uninteresting lecture on earth.’

 

The waitress comes back then and they make their orders. Harry continues as soon as she is out of the earshot.

 

‘I was sooo bored today,’ he huffs, elongating vowels like a petulant child. Even his curls look offended by this particular lecture.

 

Zayn laughs at him and gets a wink in return.

 

‘So you never answered me in texts – what were you doing that made you want to leave your office?’

 

Zayn shrugs and takes a sip of his water.

 

‘I was just looking over some financial collation and balance sheets, nothing interesting, obviously, or else I wouldn’t be sitting here.’

 

‘Well, isn’t that just flattering to me,’ Harry drawls. ‘CEO of the best company ever leaving his surely important business matters for a coffee with a broke student.’

 

Zayn snorts before responding, ‘Believe it or not, but you’re way more entertaining than what I was doing before I left.’

 

Harry opens his mouth and is just about to say something in response to that, when they hear a squeal not far from them.

 

‘Daddy??’

 

Zayn immediately turns in his seat and is met with a sight of his daughter running towards him, one of her teachers hot on her heels. He stands up and smiles at her, his arms open wide. He can only hope that she won’t notice Harry. She runs straight into his arms.

 

‘Hey Kaylah– ’ he starts, but is cut off by her.

 

‘Hi daddy!’ She exclaims, clearly excited that she ran into him. ‘I was just telling Dixon that it’s _totally probable_ that we can see you today!’

 

‘Is that so?’ He asks, father mode already on. She nods furiously, her ponytails bouncing with every move of her head. ‘Sunshine, what are you doing out of school?’

 

‘We took Kaylah’s class for a little trip today,’ a woman that Zayn recognizes as Kaylah’s teacher says. ‘Hello Mr Malik,’ she adds with a nod and Zayn nods back at her.

 

‘Hello Ms Steighton,’ he says, then turns to his daughter. ‘Kaylah, I’m really glad to see you, but never run off like this again. Is that clear?’

 

Hearing her dad so concerned and serious causes the girl to stay still and be serious, too. ‘Yes, daddy.’

 

Zayn notices that she doesn’t want to meet his eyes, in case of longer scolding happening, and he catches the exact moment she sees Harry. He stands no chance and he knows it, and that makes him curse mentally. Apparently today is the day one of his and Perrie’s rules gets broken – _don’t let the girls see you with this person_.

 

‘Daddy, who’s eating lunch with you?’ Kaylah asks and already on her way to Harry. ‘Hi, I’m Kaylah, who are you?’

 

‘Very pleased to meet you, Kaylah,’ Harry gets up from his chair and bows exaggeratedly, making Zayn’s daughter giggle. ‘My name’s Harry Styles.’

 

‘Mr Styles is a Uni magazine reporter,’ Zayn interjects quickly, before things can really go downhill. ‘He was interviewing me and we got hungry.’

 

‘Yes, interviewing can be really hunger-inducing,’ Harry winks at Kaylah and she giggles again, and – is she blushing? Zayn can’t blame her, Harry is awfully charming like this.

 

‘Oooh! How cool!’

 

‘Yes, quite,’ Zayn interrupts again. ‘You should go with your teacher now and the rest of your class, honey.’

 

‘Yes, Kaylah,’ the teacher jumps at the opportunity to get her to join others and get going. ‘Come on, everyone’s waiting for us,’ Ms Steighton says and grabs her hand. Kaylah nods, serious again.

 

‘Bye, daddy, goodbye Mr Harry,’ she smiles at them and gives them a little wave, and then she’s off and with her class again, coming back to school.

 

Zayn stares after her for a while and Harry is the first to break the silence between them.

 

‘You are aware that you owe me an interview now, aren’t you, Mr Malik,’ he says in that faux innocent manner of his. Zayn is fighting to keep his face straight.

 

‘I do, don’t I,’ he agrees, eyes set firmly on his half-empty glass of water and steaming ravioli, which must have arrived while he was too busy saving the day. ‘I’d better clear up my schedule, then,’ he adds, a teasing note in his voice.

 

Harry grins like a Cheshire cat. This can’t mean any good.

 

Zayn’s on board with that.

 

***

 

He ends up driving Harry home and maybe it’s the additional glass of wine he had with his lunch, or he’s just particularly reckless today, but he finds that he really can’t help himself and puts his hand inappropriately high on Harry’s thigh.

 

It’s Harry’s fault, really. For having such great legs and accentuating them with such tight jeans.

 

There’s a change of lights, so he concentrates more on the road for a while and misses Harry’s smirk. What he doesn’t miss, though, is that Harry doesn’t do anything to move his hand.

 

‘I should probably apologise for the run-in with my daughter…,’ Zayn trails off.

 

‘It’s alright,’ Harry says slowly. ‘It’s normal, even.’

 

‘What? You used to being introduced to eight-year-old girls?’ Zayn asks incredulously and looks over at Harry. Which – a mistake.

 

‘Nah,’ he rolls his eyes and licks his lips, and Zayn can’t be sure if he’s deliberate in doing so or not, but he so wants to pin him down and make out with him. High school urges, _honestly_. ‘Like, it’s normal to get so enamoured with me,’ Harry finally continues, ‘what with my good looks, and all,’ he motions his hand vaguely around himself.

 

Zayn only smirks at that and moves his hand even higher and squeezes.

 

‘Turn the next right,’ Harry directs. ‘The lagoon blue building is mine.’

 

‘Lagoon blue? You mean that one?’ He points and Harry nods, so he parks right next to it. He pulls up the handbrake and turns to Harry, who is suddenly very close to him. Zayn itches to put his hand on Harry’s thigh again.

 

‘Thank you for driving me home,’ Harry says softly and lightly presses his lips to Zayn’s cheek. Zayn lowers his eyes and it takes every ounce of his self-control not to snog Harry right now, right in his car. He still has work to do, though, and girls to pick up from their extra-curricular classes.

 

‘Anytime,’ is his only response along with a warm smile, mirrored expression on Harry’s face as he gets out of the car.

 

Zayn doesn’t move for a few moments and writes down Harry’s address before reversing into the road.

 

***

 

One of the following days Zayn ventures into his friend’s office. He doesn’t knock and goes straight in, stopping in an entrance after having noticed that Liam’s on the phone.

 

‘Yes, certainly,’ Liam says in a business-like manner. ‘I’m looking forward to our cooperation as well. Have a good day. Good bye.’

 

Zayn comes up to his desk and sits in one of the leather armchairs.

 

‘Hi,’ Liam says and smiles. ‘Is there anything we should discuss?’ When Liam’s at work, it’s always business that is first on his mind. Zayn appreciates that about him. He’s the best business partner he could wish for.

 

‘Isn’t there always?’ Zayn asks, rolling his eyes a bit. Running a company is by no means an easy task, and there’s always something that waits to be done.

 

‘True,’ Liam nods at him, raking his hand through his styled hair.

 

‘Liam, do you think we could go on a longer break together?’

 

‘Define longer,’ he answers, already mentally checking which meetings could be postponed. ‘I could use some vacation right now.’

 

‘Yeah, me too,’ Zayn agrees. Between work, his family and Harry, he finds himself really busy. Not that he complains. ‘But not that kind of longer. Just, like, a few hours. I need your advice.’

 

‘Alright, I think we can sneak off. I’ll just write a few final lines…’ he trails off and types at his laptop quickly. ‘Okay, done. So, shall we leave now?’

 

‘Yes, let’s go.’

 

They leave through the car park, hopping into Zayn’s pewter Audi A5 (coupé).

 

‘So, where are we going?’ Liam asks, after shooting a quick text to his lovely wife, Sophia.

 

‘I’ve had my eyes set on a certain apartment in the city centre. Well, a penthouse, to be exact,’ Zayn answers, swiftly meandering through the midday traffic. ‘One of our agents let me know that it has quite a good price now.’

 

‘You want to invest in it? Sell it later?’

 

‘I want to buy it for personal use. I need your advice, because you know how I am – a nice view and that’s all I need. It’s near HSBC bank.’

 

‘That… can’t be a real bargain,’ Liam says, astounded. Years of working in real estate left him devoid of any illusions about what ‘a really good price’ can mean.

 

‘I guess it’s not,’ Zayn reluctantly admits. ‘But I’ve wanted to own something in the centre of London for quite a while now and… Liam, I’ve only seen it in passing, but you’ll be impressed, trust me.’

 

‘Oh, I’m sure of it,’ he says, no real heat behind his words. ‘You do have an impeccable taste.’

 

Zayn miraculously finds a place to park across the street from the building. When they get inside, a real estate agent is already waiting for them, keys in her hand.

 

‘Gentlemen,’ she greets them and they shake hands, before she invites them in with a gesture.

 

Liam’s jaw drops.

 

He doesn’t even know what he expected but it wasn’t _this_.

 

The place is beyond tasteful, decorated in whites and natural colours. It’s spacious, with many, many windows, and _planes_ of unfurnished space, giving the wonderful air of roominess without seeming too empty. He understands why Zayn likes this place so much. Even more so when he notices an easel in the corner of the living room.

 

Zayn coughs lightly. ‘So,’ he breaks the silence between them. ‘I take it you like it, too?’ His hazel eyes are so hopeful that they sparkle.

 

‘It’s wonderful,’ Liam says quietly, afraid of breaking the spell. ‘Exquisite.’

 

Zayn smiles at him, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly.

 

‘Then it won’t be a mistake to buy it, will it?’ He asks, but to be honest he already knows the answer. Liam smiles broadly at him.

 

‘I seriously doubt it,’ he answers truthfully.

 

It’s the only incentive Zayn needs to walk up to the agent and talk about the details of sealing the deal. This place feels too right to him to let it go.

 

***

 

Harry feels like a zombie. It’s also possible that he has somehow morphed into a zombie over the last few days. He had shifts at work _and_ classes everyday and he’s glad that it’s finally a day when he can stay home.

 

He hears distinctive pounding in the distance, suggesting that one of his flatmates is yet again trying to concentrate while hitting a tennis ball on his bedroom wall. Harry feels ready to kill.

 

He shambles into the kitchen and turns the coffee maker on. Thankfully, it’s still working, unlike some other kitchen devices – like a mixer, for example. He’s in the middle of planning the most painful and cruel death, when he hears a doorbell.

 

It’s such a rare occurrence that he walks over immediately and opens door to a courier holding a package wrapped in a brown paper.

 

‘Mr Styles?’ the courier asks, jostling the package in his hands a bit.

 

‘Yes?’ Sleep deprivation and lack of coffee _aren’t_ Harry’s best friends.

 

‘A delivery for you, sir,’ the courier hands him the package and takes out a notepad. ‘Please, sign here.’

 

Harry does as asked and soon is left alone and dumbfounded in the doorway. Hearing the huffing of the coffee machine finally shakes him off his stupor. He goes back to kitchen and rips the brown paper and – just stares.

 

There, before him, are financial and political magazines of the best reputation on the market. But that’s not all. He picks up The Economist and surveys the cover closely and – how can it even be possible? He checks other magazines and it turns out they all have one thing in common: all of them are coming into circulation _next week_. And he has them _now_.

 

He reaches for his phone and sends Zayn a text.

 

_how will I ever repay you_

Zayn: _lunch?_

_I thought I was repaying you, not the other way round, but I’m not gonna complain_

 

Zayn: _same place as last time, 1 pm_

Well. His day just got considerably better.

 

***

 

‘Everything all right?’ Zayn asks, pulling Harry out of his thoughts.

 

‘Huh?’ Harry looks at him, his eyes wide.

 

‘I asked if you’re alright,’ Zayn repeats and points to Harry’s barely touched penne. ‘You’ve hardly tasted your lunch.’

 

Harry sighs and leans back in his chair.

 

‘I’m just… Kind of sick and tired, you know, of having to share my living space,’ he shrugs. ‘I had lots of room just for me at home, and I thought I’d get used to living this way, but it’s harder than I expected.’

 

Harry stops and looks around, picking on a serviette.

 

‘And work – it’s not so bad, but it takes a lot of my time, then I’m tired and not really in the mood to do _anything_ other than nap and just mop around,’ he stops again and massages his temples. Zayn waits quietly having a feeling that Harry’s not done yet. And he really hopes he’s not, because that would be a perfect opportunity for him…

 

Suddenly, Harry snorts a laugh and continues.

 

‘And now I’m turning into a whiny brat,’ he mutters, his voice full of self-depreciation. ‘Sorry, I know you wanted some good company.’

 

‘Au contraire, dear Harry,’ he says and Harry raises one of his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘Even if you’re complaining you’re still a sight to behold, therefore you can never really be a completely bad company.’

 

Harry smiles at that somewhat shyly, a hint of blush on his cheeks.

 

‘Besides, I think I could make you an offer,’ Zayn says slowly, his turn in looking more pensive than usual.

 

‘Oh?’ Harry rises his eyebrow. ‘What kind of an offer?’

 

Zayn drums his fingers on the table and reaches inside his jacket for cigarettes. He toys with a pack a bit, gathering his thoughts.

 

‘I could offer you a place to stay on your own,’ he says and lights a cigarette, then inhales. ‘Near your university, so you wouldn’t have to worry about commuting. You’d have peace and quiet there, a place where you could focus and write.’

 

Their gazes meet.

 

‘It sounds beautiful, really, it does, Zayn, but,’ Harry laughs humourlessly. ‘I’d still need to pay my bills, which will cost me more living by myself, so I probably wouldn’t have time to write at all.’

 

They stay silent for the next couple of minutes, Zayn immersed in repetitive actions of smoking.

 

‘I didn’t say anything about paying.’ Zayn says after a while, the sound of his voice with a hint of incredulity. Harry just looks at him, more attentive now.

 

‘I’d be covering all the costs coming from using the apartment and your personal development,’ he states, his confidence back in place now that Harry didn’t protest at the mere thought of this kind of help.

 

‘Why?’

 

Zayn stands up abruptly and turns away from Harry.

 

‘Because you… You’re ambitious and dead set on achieving your goals. And our conversations and meetings challenge me, more than I’ve been over the last few years,’ he looks Harry in the eye over his shoulder. ‘You’re my fresh perspective.’ He makes a few steps around the small room and runs a hand through his hair. ‘And if you’re wondering about things to do in return, I’d just like to keep up our conversations and meetings.’

 

Harry nods slowly, processing Zayn’s words.

 

‘So I’d be your sugarbaby,’ he deadpans.

 

Zayn winces.

 

‘I don’t like this word… Although I can see the parallels,’ he scratches his hand nervously. ‘You’ll be... just you.’

 

‘Hey,’ Harry touches his arm. ‘It’s not offensive to me or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

 

‘Really? It’s not?’

 

He seems genuinely surprised and Harry laughs at Zayn’s bewildered face.

 

‘It’s not. I- ’, he hangs his voice, as if unsure of what to say next or how to say it. ‘I kind of like it.’ He finally mutters under his breath and Zayn can’t believe his luck.

 

‘You should move in this week,’ Zayn states, his confidence back for good and tone slightly commanding.

 

Harry doesn’t even bother to put up a fight.

 

Not that he would even want to.

 

But – you know. He just doesn’t.

 

_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There goes chapter three! The apartment Zayn purchases it this one http://www.sothebysrealty.com/eng/sales/detail/180-l-691-rbthtr/the-old-clock-house-london-en-ec1 
> 
> Sorry for the inevitable inaccuracies, hope it doesn't spoil reading for you.
> 
> Again, thanks a lot for kudos and comments - you're all very nice :)
> 
> As always, if you'd like to talk, hop on givehazababy.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

_

 

The Harry-accidentally-meeting-Kaylah incident would most likely slowly wander into the depths of oblivion had Perrie not overheard Kaylah telling Aisha about “daddy having an interview” the other day, when they were playing with their dolls.

 

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Aisha is short with her sister. ‘Why would anyone want to interview our dad? He’s no celebrity!’

 

‘I know that!’ Kaylah exclaims and stomps her foot. ‘But he had an interview and then lunch with mister Harry!’

 

Perrie freezes upon hearing this name. Surely, Zayn doesn’t know many Harrys. She decides to corner him about it later in the evening.

 

She doesn’t bother tip-toeing around the subject.

 

‘Think you could explain to me why Kaylah was telling Aisha about your interview with “mister Harry”?’ She asks as soon as he’s through the main door, making the air-quotes with her long-nailed fingers.

 

She thinks that maybe he’ll try denying it, but Zayn just nods.

 

‘Yes, I was with him,’ he admits. ‘And I’m really sorry about it, Pez.’

 

‘We had a deal, Zayn. Girls can’t be getting to know him!’

 

‘I know! It was an unfortunate coincidence.’

 

Zayn hangs his coat and goes after his wife to the living room.

 

‘Look, I’m really sorry that it happened, but I can’t change it. What’s happened – happened.’

 

‘I know. I’m just… so mad.’

 

‘I can see that. I can only promise you that I’ll be more careful from now on.’

 

Perrie sighs heavily and sits on the sofa.

 

‘I don’t like it,’ she states after a few moments of silence and looks at Zayn eventually.

 

‘I know, me neither.’ He sits in front of her. ‘Kaylah will soon forget all about this encounter, you’ll see. And he did interview me, you know.’

 

Perrie rises one eyebrow in disbelief. Zayn rummages through his messenger bag and hands her a printed-out copy.

 

‘Uni mag’

 

‘Yeah. It’s – whatever,’ Zayn shrugs and rubs at his neck. Perrie feels curious in spite of herself and gives the article a once-over. She’s quite surprised that it’s –

 

‘Not bad,’ she comments and hands it back to Zayn and gets up from the sofa. She makes to leave but stops in the entrance of the room. ‘But it doesn’t change the fact that it can’t happen again.’

 

‘It won’t,’ Zayn promises.

 

Even though he can’t possibly predict any turn of events, he _will_ try to avoid any other coincidences like this, because letting go of Harry right now – . It’s not something he wants to even consider.

 

***

 

It’s Friday and Zayn’s feeling antsy all day. He finds himself rearranging his desk for a fourth time in-between meetings with his clients and feels embarrassed.

 

Isn’t he too old to be feeling like this?

 

Even if he is, he still feels this way and… Well, today’s also the day of Harry’s move and he keeps calling and texting Zayn about packing, and quitting his job next week, and does Zayn know how much good can come out of the change of environment, really, and when was the last time _he_ changed something about his workplace?

 

‘Just give me a call when you’re ready,’ he says, feeling some of Harry’s excitement on himself. ‘I’ll send my chauffer to help you.’

 

‘Ok, I’ll do that,’ Harry replies and there’s a loud thump following his words. ‘I _hate_ packing.’

 

Zayn laughs. ‘Yeah, I gathered that much.’

 

‘Alright, I guess I’ll hang up now. Don’t wanna keep you from your work any longer.’

 

Until, much to his chagrin, Zayn’s forced to stop this charming stream of consciousness and actually do some job.

 

That stops any contact with Harry whatsoever and later in the day Zayn finds himself wondering if everything’s going well. His musings are interrupted by a text and Zayn really hated how much his heart speeds up in excitement. (To be honest, though, he absolutely loves it).

 

 _You must be kidding Zayn, this place is too much_ is what the first one says, because Harry seems to be on the flow again.

 

_I love it though_

_pls never make me leave_

_it IS your place, so ofc you can_

_but don’t, seriously, it’s wonderful_

 

Unfortunately, Zayn doesn’t have time to type even a quick reply, as the company’s solicitor is already in his office, with her hands full of deals and agreements, which they will probably proceed to look over until the late hours.

 

Zayn figures he’ll just pay Harry a visit as soon as he’s done, and get to experience Harry’s reaction first-handed.

 

‘Heather, hi,’ he greets his solicitor and takes some papers from her. ‘Let’s get this over and done with.’

 

Heather gives him a tired smile and moves a chair to sit next to him.

 

‘First thing, though – I demand some good tea,’ she states, a teasing undertone in her otherwise professional voice.

 

‘Your wish is my command,’ Zayn replies and orders as wished.

 

***

 

Harry flops heavily on an _enormous_ white couch and groans. He wonders if moving places ever gets not tiring. He really hopes so.

 

And well, today it probably wasn’t even half that bad, because he had LOADS of help from Zayn’s chauffer – really, what a great man Irvin is. Harry made sure to wish him well AND his entire family, enumerating them by their first names.

 

It was the least he could do.

 

Also, couches were never supposed to be this comfortable, he thinks decidedly and shoots Zayn a quick text: _never leaving your couch again_.

 

It’s already dark outside, even though it’s still afternoon, and a nap sounds really nice, but he just can’t seem to be able to doze off – he’s too excited.

 

This place is like – a _wet dream_ , seriously.

 

Stylish, chic, but not over the top, in addition spacious and bright.

 

There are four bedrooms. FOUR bedrooms. Harry has no idea how he’ll decide where to sleep. He’ll probably end up violating all of them. Well, maybe ‘violating’ seems like a dramatic choice of a word, but they all look so… untouched, with their white or fair-coloured beddings, that adding his body in the mix – however young and lithe – will definitely maim their perfection.

 

Bathrooms come in the same number, but with them the choice is easier – proximity being the major decisive factor.

 

It’s not that Harry’s never seen such a luxurious accommodation – his parents’ house was his first experience, easily fitting into the ‘villa’ category, then those in possession of various family members and friends – it’s just that having so much space for yourself _only_ makes a completely different impression. It’s harder to be impressed by six-bedroom house when it’s a shared living space of four people, really.

 

Feeling the rest of his sleepiness disappear he sighs and drags himself to the kitchen – another magnificent living space – and decides to make something quick to eat. Again, massive thank you to Irvin, who thought about buying some groceries during their last errand.

 

He inspects what they bought and decides on a veggie stir-fry and sets out to work. Of course, he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t get distracted – it’s a Skype call from his close friend Niall, who’s studying at the Trinity College.

 

‘Hey man!’ are Niall’s first words and Harry feels like he never left in the first place.

 

‘Hiiii, I moved!’ Harry exclaims and ends up giving Niall a grand tour, complete with description of his and Zayn’s arrangement. It’s a testament to how close they are and to Niall’s carefree attitude that his reaction for this particular piece of information includes thumbs up and ‘woah, how cool! Keep it up, mate!’ Harry gets a pang of missing him and invites him over, WHENEVER REALLY.

 

It slows him down considerably in the dinner department – it’s already 7 p.m. when he wanders into the kitchen again. He glances over at the ingredients he selected and put on the counter earlier and gets to work.

 

***

 

Zayn doesn’t even check his watch when he leaves his office, and just heads straight for the car park. It’s been dark outside for long enough that he knows it can’t be anything but late in the (hopefully still0 evening.

 

He drives quickly to his new estate – wonderful, magnificent new estate – and goes up the stairs quickly, skipping every other step. He opens the door with his own set of keys and only then does he think that he should have probably let Harry know about his visiting plans. Well, now’s too late for that.

 

‘Harry?’ he calls out, hanging his jacket on the rack and loosening his tie. There’s no answer but he hears a hushed singing and goes in that direction. The singing turns to humming and he identifies it as coming from the kitchen.

 

He stops in the doorway and catches Harry shimmying his hips to some tune he’s humming and an amazing smell of a freshly-done dish. Zayn enjoys the show quite a lot, but at the same time doesn’t want to scare Harry, so he starts again.

 

‘Hello Harry,’ he says calmly and almost immediately laughs at his expression – a proper deer-caught-in-the-headlights one.

 

‘Zayn!’ he exclaims, half-offended and half-cheerful. ‘I didn’t hear you come in! And you never said you’ll come over!’

 

‘Should I go then?’ he asks not even trying to sound serious and sits by the counter.

 

‘I’ve just finished making a veggie stir-fry. Would you like some?’

 

‘Absolutely. It smells delicious,’ he compliments and Harry’s smile gets even wider. He’s so pretty like this, in worn t-shirt and skinny jeans, with his hair held up by a bandana. Zayn can’t get his eyes off, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind. He beams at Zayn and quickly arranges the table, making it look all nice and dinner-y in two minutes flat. Zayn observes him with a small smile playing on his lips – Harry, with his long, curly hair and quirky fashion sense fits in this apartment rather well.

 

‘Here you are,’ he says putting Zayn’s portion in front of him. His mouth water and _it’s just veggies_. Zayn tries a few bites and moans.

 

‘That’s so good!’ He exclaims enthusiastically, causing Harry to laugh at his reaction.

 

‘I’m glad you like this,’ he comments in this deep voice of his. ‘I sure like my stir-fries tasty,’ he adds with an exaggerated wink and it’s Zayn’s turn to laugh, but what comes out of his mouth is a _giggle_ , and really, Zayn’s not recognising himself. But he feels so, so nice and light…

 

Harry describes to him how the move went and what he’s already managed to set up. He also tells him about his inability to choose a bedroom.

 

‘Pick one with the bigger bed,’ Zayn advises him and as soon as that leaves his mouth he freezes. When exactly did he lose his brain-to-mouth filter?

 

‘I’ll think about it,’ is Harry’s cryptic answer as he hands Zayn a cup of tea and suggest that they should move to the living room.

 

‘This couch is _sinful,_ you know. I don’t know why you’d even need a bedroom with a couch like this,’ Harry’s commenting all the while settling on a couch – setting pillows and putting blanket over his and Zayn’s legs.

 

It feels really nice, Zayn thinks.

 

His stomach is full, he’s sipping on a hot tea, he’s warm and comfortable. There’s only one little lamp giving light in the room and Harry’s voice has such a nice timbre to it, lulling Zayn with soft words…

 

It’s really no wonder that he falls asleep.

 

***

 

The thing is, Harry doesn’t really _need_ Zayn to be his sugardaddy. His family is well-off enough to pay for his studies, as well as an apartment and food etc. When Harry announced he’ll start working by the end of September and that he found himself an accommodation with other students to be able to pay for it by himself it was met with stunned silence from his mom, step dad and sister. His mom was first to break it, telling him how proud she was of him and if anything turned out to be too much he should just let them know and they would figure it out together.

 

So, it’s not like he would be left on his own to starve to death if he quit his job _and_ wasn’t Zayn’s sugarbaby.

 

He has always hang out with people older than him though, so spending time with Zayn is nothing out of ordinary for him. That’s what he tells Zayn, more or less, and he doesn’t even bother hiding the amazed expression from his face. It’s clear he likes the penthouse and that he’s impressed and he wants Zayn to know.

 

Zayn falls asleep on him, his head falling on Harry’s shoulder. It’s obvious that after a whole week of work the man is tired. Harry indulges himself a little and cuddles to Zayn. They’ve known each other only a little more than a month, but Harry likes him already pretty much. Harry’s always liked people who held power, but Zayn’s – he’s really humble about his accomplishments. Humble, but confident, decisive and aware of his worth.

 

He knows that he shouldn’t just let Zayn to sleep over, it’s likely that his daughters are waiting for him (a nice thought) and so is his wife (not so nice thought), so he decides to let him have a nap and then wake him up.

 

Meanwhile, Harry grabs his phone and checks if Zayn’s features will look as perfect on photos, with light illuminating his cheekbones, and his lashes casting shadows on his stubble-stained cheeks.

 

They do.

 

***

 

The upcoming end of the year means that Zayn’s busy schedule will get even more busy. He sighs heavily and flops into his high-backed leather armchair. He feels in need of a break. A break that is away from his office, preferably.

 

He grabs his phone and calls Harry. He waits for a few signals, but as Harry’s not picking up, Zayn decides to text him.

 

_wanna grab some lunch?_

Typically Harry answers him within a couple of minutes even if he’s in classes, so Zayn leaves his phone out and sets out to organize things he’s going to do after the break. He gets quite immersed in this activity and it’s almost forty minutes later when he glances at his phone and –

 

Huh. Still no answer.

 

He can’t help but feel worried for Harry, as it is quite unusual for him to leave Zayn’s questions or proposition unanswered for that long. _It’s probably nothing_ , he reasons with himself and decides to call him again in a few and leaves his office. Going somewhere with Harry or not, he still needs to get away.

 

He’s nursing a cup of coffee and waiting for his order when he calls again. This time, to Zayn’s relief, Harry picks up.

 

‘’Ullo?’ His voice sounds particularly raspy.

 

‘Hey, did I wake you?’

 

‘No, not really. I was- uh, just napping.’

 

‘Oh, sorry.’

 

‘Nah, it’s alright. Did you want something?’

 

‘Yeah, I just wanted to know if you’d want to grab lunch.’

 

‘Oh. Thank you, but I’ll just stay home,’ Harry’s voice still has unhealthy rasp to it and that piques Zayn’s worry.

 

‘Are you alright?’

 

‘Uh, I just have a bit of a cold, nothing really _bad_ ,’ Harry answers and Zayn has a feeling he downplays it quite a bit.

 

‘Okay. Stay put, I’ll come over.’

 

‘What? No Zayn, there’s really no need to – ’

 

‘Harry,’ Zayn interrupts him.

 

‘Yes?’

 

‘I’ll come over in twenty minutes. End of a story,’ he says and hangs up before Harry can protest against it.

 

When twenty minutes later Harry opens him wrapped up in a blanket, eyes puffy and nose red, he knows he was right about the downplaying part. He looks so pitiful that Zayn can’t help being overwhelmed by fond feelings towards this boys and wraps him in a hug.

 

‘Hey babe,’ he says softly in his ear, nosing gently right behind it. Harry only snuffles in response, obviously tired and poorly. Zayn steers him into the living room, where, judging by the state of the room, Harry was cocooned in blankets and pillows.

 

‘I brought you some lunch. Get back under the covers and I’ll reheat it for you, alright?’

 

Harry only raises big doe eyes at him and nods miserably, a stray curl on his forehead.

 

Zayn makes a quick work of reheating soup and croutons, making two cuppas for them as well.

 

‘Here you go,’ he says as he puts a bowl with soup in front of a bundle that is Harry. ‘Eat up and then I’ll give you meds.’

 

‘Thanks,’ Harry rasps out and starts slurping on the soup. Zayn’s endeared and keeps doing stuff for Harry and making him comfortable until the boy dozes off and it’s already 4 p.m. and he should definitely go back to work. He sends one more fond look towards him and before going out leaves him a note on the coffee table saying: _I’ll call you in the evening. Sweet dreams xx._

 

***

 

Zayn makes it his duty to check on Harry the next day both by calling to him and by calling in with lunch and cough syrup. He’d gladly do nothing else but nurse Harry back to health, but the beginning of December is a really hot period and two days later he finds himself grabbing his forever-packed hand baggage and getting ready to get to an airport and fly to their overseas partner. He called Harry earlier that day and knows that the boy is still poorly and he really doesn’t want to leave him like that.

 

That’s why he goes over to Liam’s office twenty minutes before he has to head to the airport.

 

‘Liam, can I ask you for a favour?’ He asks and Liam stares at him as if he asked if the sun was rounding the Earth or the other way round. Zayn feels a bit stupid.

 

‘I just, uh, need you to go and check on…’ he trails off, rubbing at his chin, not really knowing how to introduce the “Harry issue” to his friend. He _had meant_ to tell him, but kept getting distracted.

 

‘Sure,’ Liam says and shrugs as if saying _no big deal_. ‘Where do you need me to go?’

 

‘To my new apartment.’

 

‘Okay, I’ll do it.’

 

‘There’s… an acquaintance of mine staying there,’ Zayn winces and avoids eye-contact with Liam.

 

Liam fixes him with a stare again. This time it’s a mixture of disbelieving and disapproving.

 

‘Please don’t say you bought it so that _someone_ could live there,’ he says, squeezing at the base of his nose, trying to ward off a headache.

 

‘No!’ Zayn exclaims, outrageously. ‘No, of course not,’ he follows the exclamation in a much calmer tone.

 

‘I gather Perrie doesn’t know about this “acquaintance”?’ He asks, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

 

‘She knows,’ Zayn states and that startles Liam into silence. Zayn steals a glance at his watch – he doesn’t have much time.

 

‘Listen, uh,’ he starts again and thinks _fuck it_ and launches into the basic explanation. ‘His name is Harry and he’s really poorly and I’d appreciate it very much if you went there with, like, some groceries and aspirin, okay? Here,’ he hands Liam a card with Harry’s name and number that he prepared earlier. ‘It’s his number.’

 

Liam just nods, still too stunned to react any other way.

 

‘I gotta go now. Call me with any news.’

 

And with that he’s off to the car park, where his chauffeur is already waiting for him, leaving Liam to think this particular piece of information through on his own.

 

_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, finally.
> 
> I've had quite an eventful week and got sick and fallen a bit behind the schedule, but hopefully the next one will be up Wednesday evening.
> 
> Special thanks to MaddyTinkerbell for coming up with the name for Zayn and Perrie's older daughter :)
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments - I never expected to get so much positive feedback. You rock! xx
> 
> As always, you can come talk to me at givehazababy.tumblr.com  
> about anything, really :)


	5. Chapter 5

_

 

Zayn expects a (probably deserved) unapologetic berating from Liam the second he’s off the plane and back on the English land, but nothing like that happens. Not the day of his return, though it’s Liam who comes to pick Zayn up from the airport, not even three days later when they’re both back in their respective offices. This is so unlike Liam that against his instincts he decides to mention it himself. Zayn dreads it a bit, but is also painfully aware that this is inevitable now that Liam met Harry, so he wanders away from his desk and into Liam’s office.

 

He knows that Harry got better because he texted him during his stay abroad: _buy me something pretty daddy ;)_

Which Zayn did. He went with a classic choice, a bottle of perfume and a silk scarf, but God, did he want to succumb to desire to buy him something that would justify the use of word “daddy” in his message. Which he didn’t. But, you know. The idea was already there and hasn’t left him since.

 

Back to Liam, though. He’s getting dressed to go outside when Zayn goes into his office.

 

‘Zayn!’ he exclaims happily. ‘I’m just leaving for lunch. Do you want to join me?’

 

‘Uh, yeah, sure,’ Zayn quickly gets it together and they leave, Liam all the time being in an exceptionally good mood and before he can ask him what got him so chipper and smiley, Liam blurts out: ‘Sophia’s pregnant.’

 

‘Woah, it’s great! Congratulations!’

 

Liam smiles so hard his eyes are barely visible.

 

‘Thanks. I’m just – we waited for so long for this to happen, that I was slowly losing hope, but now – it’s incredible.’

 

It’s a really big deal. They’ve been trying for a baby for the last three years to no avail. To find out that Sophia is pregnant is the best news his friends could get. Zayn smiles right back at him so wide that he thinks his wisdom teeth are showing and squeezes Liam’s hand excitedly. He remembers how elated he was when Perrie told him she was pregnant the first time. And the second time, too. The feeling of completeness and accomplishment bigger than when Liam and he registered their company. Aisha and Kaylah are and always will be two most important people in his life. He’s still grateful everyday for this gift Perrie decided to give him.

 

‘We should celebrate!’ He exclaims and Liam laughs, carefree and happy. ‘Seriously, this calls for a proper celebration.’

 

‘It does, but,’ Liam sighs, ‘we don’t want to jinx it, you know.’

 

Zayn does know, so he nods in understanding.

 

‘You should come over, though. You and Perrie. We would like it very much.’

 

‘Sure thing, we will. Just tell us when and we’ll be there. We’ll ship the girls off to their grandparents or something, and we’re in.’

 

‘Okay then,’ Liam smiles dreamily before he shakes it off and reaches for a menu.

 

‘Hey,’ Zayn touches his arm and he looks at him. ‘I’m really happy for you.’

 

‘I know. I’m so happy, you know? But also this feels so… delicate.’

 

‘It does, it’s true. But Liam – I know you are the most careful person in the world and I know you do everything you can to help Sophia through this – stay positive. It will help both of you more than following any pregnancy tips or whatever.’

 

‘Alright, I’ll try,’ Liam rubs his chin. ‘Just sometimes, I can’t help worrying.’

 

‘Remember you have me,’ Zayn says in a calm and confident voice. ‘I’ll always be there to help you. Although you probably won’t need it all!’ He ends with a laugh and Liam sends his way a grateful look. He won’t stop worrying or trying to be even better for his wife, and Zayn is honestly in for this ride.

 

***

 

Zayn and Harry barely see each other throughout December, what with the various company final accounts and then also Christmas shopping, and Harry working on passing this semester classes with flying colours. Zayn doesn’t even have time to go over to the penthouse and give Harry his gift and sends Irvin with it. Well, it’s more like he would have time to deliver the present and maybe even talk with him for a while in person, but firstly – he knows he would end up staying into the early morning hours (honestly, he misses him); and secondly, Harry comes off rather busy whenever they talk on the phone.

 

They keep texting as well, messaging each other with silly Christmas-y puns (Harry), fragments of articles (Zayn and Harry), stock market ratings (Harry), and everything they observe that makes them think of one another. Harry gets cheekier with time, sending Zayn texts like ‘ _How’s my sugardaddy doing?_ _xx_ ’ and Zayn really congratulates himself on thinking ahead and getting _another_ phone number and using it only with Harry. In the safety of his study at home, he admits to himself that he likes when Harry gets like that. All flirty and giggly, and generally the best form of distraction from all the pressure coming with the end of the year.

 

It’s not surprising at all when one evening, after they haven’t seen each other for a fortnight, Harry texts him demanding that they talked on Skype. And really, it’s such a welcome thing at the end of his terribly busy day, that Zayn moves swiftly into one of guest bedrooms without asking about anything. He closes the door behind him and logs on Skype. He accepts the call and is met with a sight of Harry lying in bed.

 

‘Hiiii.’

 

‘Hey babe. How have you been?’

 

‘Busy, but good. You?’

 

‘Better now,’ Zayn answers and they both smile at this.

 

‘So,’ Harry starts, and Zayn suspects that he’s almost certainly lounging naked under the covers. ‘I think it’s obvious that I’m attracted to you.’

 

Zayn worries for a moment that this is the moment when Harry tells him of his undying love for him and suggests they elope to Switzerland. _But it’s Harry_ , his mind supplies and that’s it – it is Harry and he _understands_. Harry watches him have a silent freak out before continuing.

 

‘And you know, I’m a laid back kind of guy,’ he drawls and trails off. Zayn can’t help but laugh.

 

‘That you are,’ he confirms. Harry throws a wink at him and, _damn_ , it’s really hot and it shouldn’t be, right?

 

‘So I thought, you know, what with our little arrangement and all,’ he moves his hand vaguely in a broad circle. ‘That we could benefit also in _other ways._ ’

 

‘Oh?’ Zayn fakes an almost disinterested tone. Almost.

 

‘I find you hot. You,’ he licks his lips and waits a moment before continuing, ‘should find me hot.’

 

‘I do,’ Zayn finds himself saying, remaining all cool and stoic and _halleluiah_ he’s got his suave self back!

 

‘Exactly,’ Harry agrees, but doesn’t look particularly satisfied.

 

‘What’s with the pout now?’ Zayn asks amused. Harry dramatically throws his head back, his curls making a spectacle of their own.

 

‘I was really counting on it that you’d need a presentation for me to convince you,’ he answers a little self-deprecatingly.

 

‘A presentation.’

 

‘Yeah.’

 

‘Well,’ Zayn starts and fuck it, two can play this game. ‘I could never turn down a _possibly convincing_ presentation,’ he finishes as he undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt and leans comfortably against the headboard, with his arms nonchalantly crossed behind his head. (He knows he looks good like that. His fellow photographer told him and provided _evidence_ ).

 

Harry smiles slowly, his lips curling in a sly smirk.

 

‘Tell me you’re wearing something,’ Zayn demands, eyebrows raised.

 

‘Well,’ Harry stalls (that minx!). ‘I do.’

 

Zayn breathes a sigh of relief. Harry however, smiles mischievously.

 

‘I mean… I’m wearing that perfume you gave me.’

 

Okay, that’s – Zayn stares at him, his eyes widening. ‘Yeah?’ He asks and it comes out all husky, but who could possibly blame him?

 

Harry nods and sits up, letting the duvet fall of his shoulders and show off his chiselled chest. _Harry has tattoos_. Zayn loves tattoos.

 

‘You’ve got tattoos,’ he states.

 

‘I do,’ Harry nods and bites his bottom lip. ‘But I won’t show all of them to you now. Gotta leave you something to discover.’

 

‘Cheeky.’

 

‘Nah.’

 

‘Now I’ll just keep wondering where the rest of them is.’

 

‘So my plan’s working,’ Harry says in a low voice and throws the duvet off completely, then leans back on his elbows. Zayn gets an HQ view of his half-hard dick and pale upper thighs, which he would really like to see marked and bruised.

 

‘You look like you want to eat me,’ Harry breathes and Zayn groans and pops open the button of his trousers relieving some of the pressure on his hardness.

 

Harry settles comfortably against the pillows and bends his left leg. He’s slowly moving his hand through his chest, pinching and worrying his nipples before moving lower through his stomach, touching over his moth tattoo with just his fingertips, which raises goosebumps all over his stomach, then grips the base of his dick.

 

Zayn follows his movements closely, mindlessly undoing buttons of his dress shirt. Harry is even more beautiful like this – with his cheeks flushed, his curls in disarray… His fair skin has random red blotches over it, being the perfect prelude to his hard, red dick in the foreground. Harry’s tugging at himself slowly, his hand loose and eyelids half-closed.

 

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Zayn mutters leaning towards the screen and Harry looks at him. His shirt opened and shows off his chest.

 

‘You’ve got –’Harry stops, his voice rough from arousal. ‘You’ve got tatts,’ he groans out the last word.

 

‘You like tattoos?’ Zayn asks and slides his shirt off his shoulders and gets his dick out of his pants.

 

‘Yeah,’ is all Harry sighs and moans again, his hand tightening on his dick, the other wandering down to cup his balls.

 

‘You’re doing so great with this presentation,’ Zayn continues in a teasing tone and that spurs Harry on, his hand’s movements quicker and more erratic. It’s such an erotic sight that Zayn can’t hold back any longer and palms at himself and it feels _SO GOOD_.

 

‘Touch your hole,’ he suggest in a gentle voice and Harry shudders and immediately obeys, dragging a shaking finger down his crack. It’s Zayn’s turn to moan and tug at his dick. He can’t take his eyes off of this beautiful, sinful vision that Harry is right now. Harry pinches his nipples again.

 

‘Yeah baby,’ Zayn moans. ‘Come on, shoot.’

 

Harry comes then, the white pearls of his sperm decorating his moth in quite an artistic way – Zayn wants that image ingrained in his brain forever – and that tips Zayn over the edge, too, and he’s coming all over his hand and abs. It takes a few moments until he calms his breathing and looks at Harry again.

 

It’s surprising how right after having come Harry resembles a snugly, little kitten, but he does.

 

‘Go to sleep, babe,’ Zayn says noticing that Harry’s eyelids are drooping. ‘Sweet dreams.’

 

‘You too.’

 

He smiles at Zayn, all satisfied and content, and ends the call. Zayn closes his laptop and although he really doesn’t want to move, he knows that he won’t be well-rested if he sleeps in his clothes, so he drags himself into the adjacent bathroom.

 

***

 

It’s a few days to Christmas but Harry and his sister have already come home. It’s calm before the storm and they’re lounging together in the biggest room in the house before things get Christmas-hectic.

 

‘That your daddy?’ Gemma asks, pointing to Harry’s laptop screen before flopping next to him on a couch.

 

‘Yeah,’ Harry says, his voice a bit gruff. His heart speeds.

 

Gemma doesn’t look surprised, though. Or condescending.

 

‘Well, well, well,’ she starts, a devilish smirk appearing on her lips. ‘You’re quite an entrepreneur, aren’t ya.’

 

Harry rolls his eyes and elbows her in the ribs.

 

‘Hey! I’m being supportive here!’

 

Gemma is quiet for about a minute and a half.

 

‘Do you… send him _NUDES_??’ She asks in a stage whisper and Harry has to try to remember _real hard_ why exactly he shared this piece of information with her.

 

‘Why? You wanna see some?’ He asks, his eyebrow raised.

 

‘Ewww!’ She exclaims and hits him with a pillow.

 

‘I wouldn’t mind seeing his, though,’ she adds leering at his laptop screen _again_. Harry closes it.

 

‘Never in your wildest dreams,’ he says squinting his eyes at her.

 

‘You’re just saying that because you have none, hun,’ she says and crosses her arms over her chest.

 

‘Well – ’ Harry trails off.

 

‘Seriously??’ She exclaims, as if that was offending her personally. ‘You got yourself a daddy that looks like _a model_ and you don’t even have his nudes??’

 

Harry shakes his head.

 

‘What’s the point, then??’

 

Harry coughs meaningfully and plays with a loose end of the scarf Zayn gave him. As expected, it catches Gemma’s attention. She leans and squints at the label.

 

‘Alexander McQueen?!!’

 

Harry smiles at her smugly. She breathes a defeated sigh.

 

‘Okay, okay, I can see the point now,’ she grumbles. Harry glances at her, smiling fondly.

 

‘You want to try it on?’ He asks even as he’s already wrapping it around her neck.

 

‘Ooooh, it’s so nice,’ she says as she runs her fingers through the soft fabric.

 

A moment later the doorbell rings.

 

‘Go get it,’ Gemma says.

 

‘Don’t wanna. I’m comfy. You go,’ Harry retorts. Gemma throws him _a look_.

 

‘Alright, I’ll go and show off with your fancy scarf,’ she says and gets up.

 

‘Whatever.’

 

Gemma goes out of the room then, definitely not in a hurry, still playing with the scarf.

 

A few minutes later, she calls for her brother, ‘Harry, it’s for you!’

 

Harry gets up immediately and quickly goes to the front door. There’s Irvin standing there.

 

‘Irvin! How are you?’ He exclaims and Gemma stares at him strangely.

 

‘Very well, thank you. And you?’

 

‘Amazing. Did you buy your wife that necklace we had seen together?’

 

‘Yes. It’s hidden and waiting for the Christmas day,’ the man answers, smiling.

 

‘That’s great. What are you doing here?’

 

‘Oh, I’m here to deliver a parcel for you’, Irvin points to the bag he’s holding. It’s quite big.

 

‘For me?’ Harry asks playing coy and Irvin rolls his eyes at him. Harry just beams at him and makes grabby hands. Irvin hands it to him.

 

‘Ooooh, what’s inside?’

 

‘Well, open it and find out,’ Irvin actually winks at Harry as he says that and that leaves Gemma even more dumbfounded than she already was. ‘It’s high time I went,’ he adds and Harry nods and then hugs the man.

 

‘Wish your family a Merry Christmas from me!’ He calls when Irvin is already outside and closes the door behind him.

 

‘So exactly how many daddies do you have?’ is the first thing Gemma asks once they’re back in the living room.

 

Harry doesn’t answer her, too focused on the parcel. There’s a cartoon box inside it and Harry feels his heart speed when he finally takes the lid off and sees what’s inside.

 

‘Wow.’ Gemma peeks from behind his shoulder.

 

‘I know,’ Harry says, feeling really touched, and takes the coat out of the box sending a small card flying to the floor. Gemma picks it up and hands it back to Harry.

 

Harry opens it and reads:

 

_Merry Christmas!_

_I know it’s early, but as soon as the coat got here I had to give it to you._

_I hope it’s to your liking and that you’ll find it useful._

_Miss you,_

_Zayn_

 

Harry looks at the coat again and notices the label – _Yves Saint Laurent_ – and also that it’s exactly the coat that he dreamt of possessing. It’s a double-breasted coat, lightly patterned in grey, black and brown wool and Harry thinks he might be in love with it. He tries it on and turns presenting himself to Gemma.

 

‘How do I look?’

 

‘Like you should take a photo and send it to him,’ she says and he gestures for her to do just that. She transfers it on his phone and Harry sends it to Zayn, along with a short message:

 

_It’s wonderful. You’re the best. xx_

_Ps. Shame it doesn’t smell like you._

 

___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the next chapter. The coat Zayn gets for Harry is this one: http://www.ysl.com/us/shop-product/men/ready-to-wear-coats-classic-caban-coat-in-grey-black-and-brown-houndstooth-wool_cod41456073mw.html#dept=rtw_men_
> 
> Sorry for the delay, next one will be in a week!
> 
> Thank you for kudos and comments - they mean a lot to me. xx  
> Shout out to MaddyTinkerBell and Unbound_x for leaving a comment almost every chapter :)
> 
> Also, I had a little fangirl moment, when one of the writers I really enjoy reading left kudos on this fic! Yay!
> 
> And as always, drop by givehazababy.tumblr.com ;)


	6. Chapter 6

_

 

 

Settling back into a working mode after extended holiday is always hard, no matter how many times you’ve already had to. It’s all Zayn can think about as he stares blankly at numerous notifications, messages and a stack of different papers left by his secretary on his desk. He’d take a coffee break if he hadn’t already been sipping on the one he brought here on his _first_ coffee break.

 

_I think I need a change of work environment_

_Come over! I’ll feed ya xx._

Zayn gets out of he cab when he hears someone call his name. He turns around and sees Harry coming his way, several shopping bags in his hands.

 

‘Hi! I see you like your coat,’ Zayn notices, glad to see Harry’s wearing his gift.

 

‘Are you kidding me? I love it!’

 

‘C’mon, give me some of your bags and let’s get inside.’

 

Harry hands him a few of them. ‘What’s inside of them?’ Zayn asks noticing how heavy they are.

 

‘Just groceries,’ Harry smiles sheepishly and opens the door of the building for them. They quickly make their way up the stairs and into the apartment, and go straight to the kitchen to leave the bags there.

 

‘I’m gonna go change into something more comfy,’ Harry says gesturing to his tight jeans. ‘Do you want some shirt and sweats, too?’

 

Zayn smiles, in a better mood already. ‘Yeah, sure, would be great.’

 

‘Good. I’ll be right back.’

 

Zayn busies himself with putting the kettle on and rummaging through the bags, looking at what Harry bought. These were definitely not “just groceries”. There were several types of pasta (Harry’s favourite penne, as well as tortellini and ravioli with spinach and ricotta filling), various vegetables – broccoli, ice salad, rocket, cauliflower… Judging by the ingredients it’s right to say that Harry takes cooking seriously, as the bags contain generally plenty of things that can be turned into delicious meals in 50 different combinations.

 

Zayn’s just made the tea, when Harry enters dressed in trackies and a loose T-shirt, carrying another set of clothes.

 

‘Here you are,’ he hands them over to Zayn. ‘They should fit and I hope you’ll feel good in them.’

 

‘Thank you,’ Zayn says and gets out of the kitchen. Once he’s in the bathroom, he changes into Harry’s clothes without a second thought about clothes-sharing and its possible implications. He looks into the mirror and he honestly likes what he sees. A light-blue T-shirt and grey sweatpants make him look younger and think back to his uni years.

 

It’s not until Harry’s calling him that he shakes off from memories and goes out. Harry stands in the kitchen’s doorway holding a tray with a steaming cup of tea and a few scones.

 

‘Where do you want to sit?’

 

‘Um, I think I’ll settle on the couch,’ Zayn answers scratching at the back of his neck absentmindedly. ‘Gotta get some work done,’ he adds in explanation why he won’t join Harry, but Harry just smiles at him and sets the tray on the coffee table.

 

‘Alright, I’m gonna be pretty busy in the kitchen either way. I want to impress your taste buds,’ he adds with a wink, which makes Zayn laugh at this loveable creature in front of him (really, how on Earth did he manage to run into him of all people?).

 

‘Now you kinda have to,’ he states and Harry winks again before disappearing into the kitchen for good, leaving Zayn alone with his work.

 

After about half an hour of completely uninterrupted working, Zayn admits to himself that it was a good idea to come here and that he’s quite surprised – he thought that Harry is the kind of person to come and see him every now and again, maybe exchanging a few sentences, but he hasn’t done such a thing, clearly respecting Zayn’s occupation, and it doesn’t look like he’s about to start now. It even seems as if he’s keeping himself quieter for Zayn’s sake and Zayn really appreciates that.

 

The person who finally disturbs Zayn from his chain e-mail writing is Liam, who calls him about an hour in.

 

‘Where are you?’ He demands as soon as Zayn picks up.

 

‘At, uh, my apartment,’ Zayn goes for the truth and hopes he won’t regret it.

 

‘Oh.’

 

Zayn waits for a bit and when Liam doesn’t say anything else, he adds, ‘Look, I’m working on the deal with our French liaison right now – ’

 

‘Right, um,’ Liam interjects. ‘I wanted to discuss something with you.’

 

‘Ok. Just come by if you can.’

 

‘Seriously?’

 

‘Yeah, why not?’ He laughs.

 

‘Okay. I’m going out, then. Better be dressed,’ Liam says and hangs up.

 

In this exact moment Harry comes out of the kitchen, tugging his apron off, his curls puffed. Zayn smiles at him.

 

‘How’s it going?’

 

‘Good, actually. I’ve dug through my e-mail inbox and now I’m working on a deal we want our partners to sign.’ Zayn leans against the back of the couch and looks at Harry attentively. ‘And you? How are the things going?’

 

‘You’ll see when I serve it to you. Do you want anything else?’ Harry asks pointing to the empty tea cup.

 

‘Coffee would be good, but I can get it myself. Come on, sit,’ he says and pats the couch next to him. When he does, Zayn puts his arm loosely around his shoulders. ‘You have yet to tell me how _you_ feel today.’

 

Harry looks him straight in the eye before he answers, and ok, maybe Liam’s comment about having clothes on wasn’t so invalid. ‘Good. I’m really good today. And you?’

 

‘Fine,’ Zayn smiles and kisses Harry’s temple. ‘How have you been doing?’

 

‘It’s quite a busy time for me, so obviously it’s not gonna be amazing, but I’ve been ok. I’ve handed in all assignments, but there are still a few exams left.’

 

Zayn nods and hums. ‘I’ve been checking out your blog throughout the Christmas break.’

 

‘Have you?’ Harry questions, his voice unbelieving and pleased at the same time.

 

‘Of course I have! Why, is it impossible that I do so?’

 

‘Well, you are a renowned businessman – ’

 

‘It doesn’t mean I’m too good to read your blog,’ Zayn interrupts.

 

‘But surely you’re too busy.’

 

‘Harry,’ Zayn makes his most serious face and turns to him. ‘I don’t know what you think or believe on that matter, but on the note that I might have left you thinking your articles are of no interest to me – shh!’ Zayn places a finger on Harry’s lips when he opens his mouth to say something. ‘No matter how busy I am, I’ll always make time for someone as interesting and intelligent as you are.’

 

Harry is silent for a few moments, staring at his hands clasped together in his lap, and it’s then that Zayn remembers that he’s just an 18-year-old boy still having insecurities and wanting to be reassured. Harry whispers ‘thank you’ and lounges forward to hug Zayn. He engulfs the boy in his embrace and pets his hair softly.

 

A couple of minutes later Harry draws back and smiles to Zayn as bright as the sun, then leaves the room with an extra bounce in his step. Zayn stares after him, fond smile gracing his features. He hears a doorbell ring and oops!, he forgot to warn Harry. ‘Harry!’ he calls and quickly gets up from the couch and heads into the hallway.

 

‘Hello Liam!’ He hears from the hallway.

 

‘Harry, hi. Zayn said he was here…?’ He hangs his voice expectantly.

 

‘That I am,’ Zayn answers from behind Harry. Liam looks him up and down, and oh, he’s still in Harry’s clothes.

 

‘Come on in!’ Harry saves the situation from turning awkward and pulls Liam into the apartment. ‘The lunch is almost ready, would you like to join us?’

 

Zayn can’t keep a fond smile off of his face – it’s such a Harry thing to do, proper no matter the circumstances.

 

‘With pleasure,’ Liam answers and for Zayn it’s obvious that he wasn’t able to resist Harry’s charm, too.

 

‘Splendid. So I’m off to the kitchen,’ Harry retreats not waiting for them.

 

‘I’m working in the living room,’ Zayn says pointing with his thumb behind his shoulder and Liam nods and follows him. Once they sit together Zayn shows Liam all that he’s come up with for the past hour and a half. His friend seems quite surprised at the progress he’s made, clearly not having expected this. He shakes it off quickly, though, and offers additional information he came to see Zayn about.

 

Harry interrupts them right before they immerse themselves in the deal with their abroad partners. ‘Lunch’s ready,’ he announces. ‘Zayn, take Liam into the dining room, please. I’ll just change real quick.’

 

‘Dining room?’ Zayn asks, surprised.

 

‘Yes, you do know where it is, right? You _own_ this big-ass place,’ Harry teases and Liam just stares at them.

 

‘Hey! Of course I know that!’ Zayn puts his arms defensively in front of his chest. ‘And you _love_ this big-ass place.’

 

‘Can’t argue with that,’ Harry calls out from where he’s heading into his room, and Zayn and Liam finally move.

 

The table is set as if for a dinner party and Zayn’s surprised again. Apart from the fact that the dish is smelling absolutely delicious, Harry also took his time to care for details. There are even flowers in a vase in the middle of the table.

 

‘Does he always…?’ Liam doesn’t finish his question, clearly impressed.

 

‘I don’t know actually,’ Zayn admits. He’s feeling a bit underdressed and wishes he’d changed just like Harry decided to do. He’s hungry and salivating already, so he leaves that thought. The meal looks delicious and he can’t wait to try it.

 

‘Alright, I’m back, we can start!’ Harry clasps his hands and moves to hand parts of the lunch closer to his guests. Liam and Zayn gratefully accept and fill their plates. ‘Enjoy!’

 

‘On my God, it’s delicious!’ Liam exclaims upon the first bite, startling Zayn and causing Harry to laugh joyously.

 

They share the meal mostly in silence, Zayn and Liam occasionally complimenting Harry. By the end of the lunch Harry is still blushing and dimpling in a smile, and Zayn gives up on trying to take his eyes off of him.

 

‘We should probably get back to writing the deal,’ Liam says eventually, when they’re stalling becomes too apparent.

 

‘I’ll bring you coffee in a mo,’ is all Harry says and Zayn and Liam once again settle into the work-mode. Harry joins them a few minutes later, bringing coffees for all of them and also carrying his laptop. He settles into the armchair next to Zayn and gets to his business. They’re working side by side and it soon turns out that Harry has some valuable comments to offer on the deal, which earns him Liam’s respect. The flourishing cooperation is interrupted, however, by the call from Liam’s secretary, who’s been sent on a mission to bring them back into the office.

 

‘It’s time for us,’ Liam states. ‘Thank you for the lovely lunch, Harry, and for the comments – they’ve been really helpful.’

 

‘You’re welcome,’ Harry says and smiles, watching them pack their things. Zayn goes out to change back into his clothes and after few minutes Harry trails after him.

 

‘So, am I gonna see you over the weekend?’ Harry asks, leaning in the doorway of bathroom number two.

 

Honestly, Zayn knows he would actually try to change the dates if he had any meetings planned. Fortunately, he doesn’t.

 

‘I’m sure we can arrange something.’

 

Harry beams at him and kisses his cheek. They go back to Liam and they all bid their goodbyes, and soon Liam and Zayn are out of the door, Zayn mouthing _I’ll call you_ at Harry.

 

Harry smirks, mouthing _you better_ at him.

 

***

 

A few days later when Zayn comes home from work, Perrie and their neighbour Pam are chatting animatedly about something. He hangs his coat and goes straight into the living room and kisses Perrie. She looks very self-satisfied.

 

‘Hey Pam,’ he greets her and kisses her cheek.

 

‘Zayn! It’s so great that you and Perrie decided to join us for this trip – it’s gonna be awesome!’

 

‘Trip?’ Zayn asks, keeping himself in check, face blank.

 

‘You’re right, it’s more of a journey really. The Alps this time of the year are at their best and no one can convince me otherwise!’ Pam ends in a laugh.

 

‘I completely agree with you!’ Perrie exclaims, carefully avoiding any eye-contact with her husband. ‘Honey, will you bring us some wine?’

 

It’s the last thing Zayn wants to do, but he never was one to make scenes and he isn’t going to start now. ‘Of course. Red, white, or pink?’ He figures he’ll just corner Perrie about what’s going on later.

 

‘I feel like pink today,’ Pam interjects.

 

‘Yeah, me too!’

 

‘Pink it is,’ Zayn mutters and disappears in the kitchen. He feels himself getting angry, so he does the first thing that comes to his mind – he sends a text to Harry: _apparently I’m going into the Alps_. Not even a minute later he gets a response.

 

_Alps_ _! They’re great. Jealous!_

And then almost immediately a next one.

_and when is that happening?_

That’s a good question. Zayn puts the glasses and wine on a tray and goes back to the living room.

 

‘Here you are.’ He sets the tray on the table and pours wine into glasses, then hands one to Pam and one to his wife.

 

‘Thanks,’ Pam says smiling. ‘Why don’t you sit with us and we’ll make a list things for kids we want to take, so we’re not doubling on anything.’

 

‘Sure, good idea,’ he says and sits down in the armchair opposite of the sofa occupied by two friends. Perrie still avoids eye-contact with him.

 

‘Alright, so how about we take one set of puzzles, one set of Lego…’ Perrie enumerates as she’s writing everything down in her neat handwriting.

 

‘Better make it two sets of puzzles,’ Pam interjects. ‘And a doll per girl.’

 

Even Zayn nods at this – having less dolls always causes the worst drama and nobody wants to experience that, ever.

 

‘Have I told you that we had to get Beatrice a Barbie doll?’

 

‘No!’ Perrie gasps. ‘I thought she was dead set on playing with the baby-like one.’

 

‘Not anymore.’

 

Zayn zones out for a while and gets his phone out – he might as well answer Harry, even if he’s never done it with Perrie this close. He’s angry, though, and he doesn’t care. _don’t know yet. In a few days, probs. talking about Barbie dolls._

 

_Barbie dolls! What about Ken dolls?_

_dunno. forgotten_

_;(_

_Girls have one but he’s like, a chauffer for their Barbies_

_aren’t we all just chauffers to our Barbies…_

 

Zayn hears his name then and looks up quickly, sliding the phone into a pocket. ‘Sorry, what were you saying?’

 

‘That we should drive in one of our vans to the airport and just leave it at the car park,’ Pam supplies.

 

‘Okay, yeah, I’ll talk to Steve and we’ll move kids’ fauteuils.’

 

‘Great. We should have everything ready by Friday night,’ Pam sums up cheerfully and gets up. ‘It’s time for me, gotta go.’

 

‘Okay, we’ll be in touch,’ Perrie assures her and kisses her cheek. Zayn just waves from where he’s sitting.

 

Perrie turns on her heel, gathers swiftly the empty glasses and the almost-finished bottle of wine and makes a quick exit into the kitchen. Zayn follows her, hot on her heels. He waits a bit until she turns around to face him.

 

‘When have _we_ decided to go into the Alps?’ Zayn asks in a faux-calm voice.

 

Perrie sighs, as if Zayn was doing exactly what she expected him to and what is definitely not what she wished for.

 

‘Two days ago Pam called me and told all about a wonderful trip Steve found,’ she explains. ‘I thought it’d be a good idea to get away with the girls,’ she ends with a shrug.

 

‘We’ve barely came back from visiting our families!’ Zayn feels himself losing patience.

 

‘Yeah, but don’t you think we deserve some time off as family? As in, not with other people?’

 

Zayn stares at her incredulously. ‘Maybe, but aren’t Pam and Steve _and_ their children other people?’

 

‘I didn’t think it’d be such a problem for you!’ She all but shouts, a flush creeping up her neck.

 

‘You know what’s a problem here?’ He raises his voice, too. ‘That you didn’t bother to ask me and I had to learn all about it from Pam! Since when are we learning things from _third parties_? ‘Cause last time I checked we were honest with each other!’

 

‘I am honest!’

 

‘Somehow, you weren’t the one to break the news to me,’ he counters, trying to talk quieter, for the girls’ sake. ‘It’s in two days!’ He rakes his hand through his hair.

 

‘Just enough time to pack, then,’ is Perrie’s cold answer. Zayn just stares her down.

 

‘What if I couldn’t go? What would you have done then?’

 

‘Why? You have other plans?’ She asks and her tone is biting. ‘With that little plaything of yours, maybe?’

 

Zayn’s tempted to snap something spiteful, but he feels a short vibration of a text message in his pocket and bites his tongue. He shakes his head and exhales slowly. ‘Whatever Perrie,’ is all he says before he storms off in the direction of the stairs, leaving Perrie in their living room, the weight of her accusation still heavy in the air.

 

He feels too tired to deal with this.

 

And unfortunately, his weekend is no longer free.

 

***

 

Alps are beautiful, no matter what time of the year it is. The trip, although unwanted, turns out pretty cool – they spend the days mostly on the slopes or walking around and no place should be this picturesque, really. On the first evening, when they finally managed to wore out the kids and put them to sleep – Carter and Brady insisted on sleeping in the sleeping bags, which of course made the girls want that, too – on the mattresses on the floor, Zayn retreats to the spacious hallway instead of his and Perrie’s bedroom and draws. It’s a simple landscape of the place they’re in, but it lightens his mood considerably.

 

He and Perrie are civil towards each other, the tension still palpable whenever they’re by themselves. However as soon as they are on the mountainside, skiing and playing around in the snow with kids, the mood lightens. They keep on making small tournaments between each other to the kids’ utter happiness. It soon turns out that the best skier out of them is Pam and Steve’s youngest offspring, four-year-old Beatrice. Brady, their six-year-old son, pouts and stomps his foot and he’s a wet blanket until they let him win the snow fight.

 

Aisha, Kaylah and Carter (Pam and Steve’s son who is Kaylah’s age) busy themselves with trying to come up with the most difficult slaloms, which ends in them being absolutely exhausted by the dinner time. During the meal Beatrice somehow convinces the waiter to bring them additional portions of ice cream on the house. The evening ends in Pam and Perrie taking the kids to their room and playing with them, while Steve and Zayn decide to go down to the bar and get drunk.

 

‘Mate, it’s so good to go out like this,’ Steve sighs and moans around a gulp of beer.

 

‘It is,’ Zayn nods and downs the rest of his pint. ‘Shorts?’

 

‘You’re a man after my heart, Zayn!’ He exclaims and Zayn laughs and goes to the bar to order a few rounds.

 

‘Yaaaas,’ Steve says after downing the first short. ‘This must be the best holiday ever.’ Zayn nods and hums in agreement. Steve continues. ‘We don’t have to drive anywhere tomorrow,’ he starts counting on his fingers, ‘we don’t even have to go _anywhere_ tomorrow. Ergo,’ Steve always turns more erudite while drinking, ‘we can get hammered.’

 

They down the second round.

 

‘Scratch that!’ Steve exclaims again and Zayn looks at him. ‘We _should_ get hammered! We can’t pass up such golden opportunity!’

 

‘Aye, man!’

 

They stay in the bar for quite a long while, until they’re the only ones left and the owner asks them if maybe they’re tired. It’s a miracle, but Zayn catches the hint and pokes Steve, and they leave a few minutes later. The hallways of the guest house are empty and it’s quiet everywhere, so they figure out it’s late and go to their respective bedrooms.

 

Only Zayn doesn’t go in and instead wanders to a little balcony at the end of the hallway. He takes out his phone and dials.

 

‘Zayn?’ Answers Harry’s sleepy voice. ‘Something happened?’

 

‘Nah,’ he says, smiling to himself. ‘Just tipsy. Don’t wanna sleep.’

 

‘Well, in that case,’ Harry laughs. ‘How’s the trip?’

 

‘Nice.’ Apparently tipsy Zayn prefers his sentences short. ‘Wanted a weekend with you.’

 

‘Of course you did,’ Harry says quickly, sensing that it’s upsetting to Zayn. ‘Everyone just wants to spend weekends with me. I’ve got a separate calendar for weekend visits only.’

 

Zayn giggles. ‘You’re funny,’ he states.

 

‘I’ll remind you that you said so when you’re sober.’

‘I’m only tipsy!’

 

‘Zayn, baby, you know I love talking to you and all,’ Harry interrupts him. ‘But you’re in Italy and it’s gonna cost me a fortune.’

 

It takes a little while before Zayn responds.

 

‘I’m not paying for you phone?’ He asks and he’s bewildered and well, it’s really cute.

 

‘No, you’re not,’ Harry answers calmly, regretting that he’s not there to witness this.

 

‘I’m the world’s worst sugardaddy!’ Zayn exclaims in anguish. Harry can’t stop laughing on the other side. ‘As soon as we hang up, you should forward all of your bills to me and I’m calling my secretary to fix this.’

 

‘You’d better not.’

 

‘What? Why?’ Zayn is so confused that Harry decides to quit teasing him.

 

‘It’s past midnight, babe. Let the guy live.’

 

‘Oh.’ Zayn sounds really sad about it and it’s making Harry giggle again.

 

‘Yeah, _oh_.’

 

‘Haaaarry,’ Zayn all but _whines_ and he must be really drunk if he does that.

 

‘Shh, let’s focus on positives. Like, how we’ll celebrate your birthday,’ he lowers his voice suggestively.

 

‘I’m not celebrating getting older,’ Zayn mutters and Harry can swear he pouts as well. He quickly follows it with a question. ‘How though?’

 

‘Ah, it’s great that you asked,’ it’s late and Harry feels reckless. ‘First, I’ll suck you off in a lift on the ride to your office,’ he hears Zayn’s breath hitch in the speaker and that spurs him on. ‘I’ll just take your cock out and make it real quick. Then, we’ll sneak into the conference room, just for a quickie. You’ll bend me over the table and I’ll only lower my trousers just under my butt – ’

 

‘Harry,’ Zayn moans.

 

‘Are these nice thoughts?’ Harry teases.

 

‘The best.’

 

‘Good, then go to sleep thinking about it.’

 

‘Harry – ’

 

‘Goodnight Zayn,’ he says and hangs up.

 

***

 

Next day in the afternoon Harry opens the apartment’s door to a flower delivery service. It’s a bouquet made of fifty red roses and Harry can barely hold it in his arms

 

‘Really sorry for the delay, sir. The request came in at 5 in the morning, but we’ve had some car troubles.’

 

Harry just waves the man off and closes the door.

 

5 in the morning? Well. He hopes that Zayn will remember _all_ about their conversation.

 

_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's by far the longest update, so let me just say - enjoy!
> 
> Thank you for kudos and comments :) they mean a lot to me xx.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling some of you waited for what's happening in this chapter and I can only hope you like it.

_

 

 

‘To Harry!’ Niall shouts to the crowd before him raising his drink, his arm around Harry’s neck.

 

‘To Harry!’ The crowd cheers back and downs the round Harry bought for them. It’s his birthday party that his friends, with Niall being the leader, decided to organise. They’re in a club near the centre of London, low bass thumping in the background – what more can a lad ask for? Harry twirls and laughs as his friends pull him on the dance floor and clap for him. He goes wild then, pulling out all his dance moves and feeling about two hundred times more flexible with all the alcohol in his system. Someone puts a fedora on his head and he tips it forward so that his eyes are hidden, and fakes moonwalk to the beat of whatever song is playing in the background.

 

Soon Niall joins him in the middle of the circle made on the dance floor by their friends and they start dancing using all the stupid little dance patterns they used to come up with in high school and invented together. All the while their friends are jumping, bouncing and screaming around them, and soon they’re just one, big, jumping heap of bodies.

 

Harry excuses himself and goes to get another drink. He comes back to the dance floor quickly, when some Latino rhythm starts and he shimmies his hips moving through the crowd until he bumps into Alice. Wonderful, beautiful, sexy Alice. He grabs her around the waist and twirls her round and round. She goes with it, pliant in his arms, smile never leaving her neon pink lips. They’re dancing like there’s no tomorrow, surprisingly graceful in their moves considering the amount of alcohol they already consumed tonight.

 

The beat changes to something more rn’b and Harry slides his hands down her curves and pulls her closer to him by hips and soon her arms are on his shoulders, and they’re both swaying to the rhythm, their chests heaving from previous energetic dancing. Harry bumps their noses gently, leaning into a kiss, but Alice draws back.

 

‘Not a good idea,’ she says, but doesn’t take her arms off his shoulders. Harry bumps his forehead on her shoulder and whines, ‘Aliiiice’ and she just laughs.

 

‘I know you’re seeing someone, Styles, I’m not giving in to your advances,’ she retorts, playfully punching his arm. ‘C’mon, let’s come back to others,’ she grabs his hand and leads him back to where their friends are, Harry all the way staring rather fixedly at her bum, until Niall shoves a pint into his hands.

 

‘Here you are!’ He exclaims and Alice takes the chance to excuse herself now that Harry’s attention is drawn somewhere else and slips off to her girlfriends.

 

He and Niall quickly get busy with different drinking contests until somehow they find themselves in the bathroom taking selfies. Harry has a princess tiara in his hair.

 

‘Oh man,’ Niall doubles with laughter. ‘I wish that daddy of yours was here to see this!’

 

‘Zayn?’ He looks contemplative, then nods decidedly. ‘It would be so _cool_ ,’ he admits.

 

‘Yeah, ‘specially when you were groping Alice.’

 

Harry groans, thumping his head on the nearest wall.

 

‘Think he’d dump you for this?’ Niall wonders, curious, no hint of malice in his voice.

 

‘Dunno. He could,’ Harry shrugs, too drunk to properly analyse it and worry.

 

‘Okay. C’mon, let’s get outta here.’

 

Harry nods and trails after him. They end up at the bar, where their friends keep coming over and bidding them good night, some of them sharing with Harry last drink or two. By the end of this more or less steady stream of people Harry is even more drunk than he was before. He thumps his head on his folded arms on the bar, tiara still in his hair. Niall snaps one more photo of him.

 

‘Get your friend home,’ the bartender says to Niall and he nods.

 

‘Harry, mate, let’s get home,’ Niall pokes him, but Harry seems to be dozing off and just mumbles something unintelligibly. Niall sighs.

 

‘What did ya say?’ He pokes him in the side again, only harder.

 

‘Zayn?’ Harry mumbles but this time Niall manages to catch it.

 

‘Oh yeah, that’s a good idea, I’ll call him.’

 

He manoeuvres Harry’s phone out of the pocket of his skin-tight jeans, finds the number and dials.

 

***

 

Zayn wakes up in what seems to be a middle of the night. He tiredly opens his eyes, unsure of what woke him. He looks around, but nothing is out of ordinary. He shrugs and turns when his phone starts vibrating on the bedside table. He grabs it quickly and squints at the screen.

 

‘Who’s this?’ Perrie asks, half-asleep, her eyes closed.

 

‘Go back to sleep,’ he whispers to her as he gets up and leaves their bedroom. ‘Harry?’ he answers when he’s in the corridor. He hears loud noises in the background – laughter and music. ‘Harry?’ he repeats louder, going down the stairs. He checks a clock there – it’s 3 a.m.

 

‘Oh hey,’ answers a voice that is _not_ Harry’s. Zayn is getting worried. ‘Is this Zayn?’

 

‘Yes,’ he snaps. ‘And who are you?’

 

‘’m Niall, Harry’s mate,’ Zayn jogs his memory and it’s likely that Harry indeed used this name before. ‘I know it’s late, but could you maybe pick us up?’

 

‘Pick you up?’ Zayn repeats, still not sure what to think about this. He’s not talking to Harry, but some stranger, who may just be pretending to be his mate. Zayn shakes his head at himself, he shouldn’t be thinking like this.

 

‘Yeah, I don’t think I can get him into a cab. Harry, I mean.’

 

‘What’s up with him?’ Zayn asks, the feeling of worry overwhelming him. He’d never been a worrier, but ever since he became a father this changed 180 degrees.

 

‘He’s really drunk,’ Niall answers. ‘And I think he might pass out in a minute.’

 

Zayn counts from ten to one, releasing a calming breath.

 

‘Alright, I’ll come get you. Just tell me where you are,’ Zayn rakes his hand through his hair and wanders into a bathroom. He’s thankful to see there are some of his clothes that he hasn’t put away after being washed.

 

‘I’ll text ya the address,’ Niall says and hangs up.

 

Zayn sighs and pulls on a jumper and a pair of washed-out jeans and goes out. It’s so early that there’s hardly any traffic, so Zayn gets to the club quickly. He parks a street away from it and goes straight to the club. Some people are going out, some are coming in. He flashes his ID at the bouncer who just nods and Zayn begins his search for Harry and Niall.

 

Niall assured him in one of the texts that they’ll be waiting somewhere around the bar, so it’s the first place he heads for, all the while looking around the crowd, trying to catch the sight of curls. True to Niall’s word he spots Harry at the bar – well, more _on_ the bar, seeing that he’s practically lying on it. Before he can touch him, someone grabs his arm. Zayn turns around and is met with a sight of a bleach-blond boy.

 

‘Hey man, it’s Niall,’ the boy half-shouts and reaches out his right hand.

 

‘Zayn,’ he says shaking his hand. ‘So, you ready to go?’

 

‘Yep.’

 

‘Let’s go, then.’

 

Zayn embraces Harry and together with Niall they navigate him through the crowd towards the exit. Harry is plastered, his head is lolling from side to side, and he stumbles every few steps. Zayn keeps his arm steady on his waist, meandering between dancing people. Harry sniffs at his neck and raises his head to look at Zayn for the first time this evening.

 

‘Zayn!’ He exclaims, his cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. He nuzzles at Zayn’s neck. Only then does Zayn notice the tiara in his hair. The weird thing is that it _suits him_ , the plastic jewels glittering from between his curls. Zayn shakes his head and looks behind to check on Niall, who might be in better shape than Harry is, but is definitely not sober if he’s occasional stumble is any indication. He’s doing quite well, though, so Zayn goes ahead.

 

Finally they reach the exit and as soon as they’re out of the door, Zayn takes Harry into his arms and carries him to his car, Niall following close behind. It makes Harry giggle and clutch at Zayn’s jumper. He also keeps mumbling something about brides and weddings, and somewhere in the back of his mind Zayn thinks that he probably shouldn’t find this as cute as he does.

 

He and Niall somehow manage to wrestle Harry into the backseat and even to fasten his seatbelt. They get in and Zayn drives away swiftly. He feels too tired to make small talk and turns to Niall only when he feels that he’s staring at him.

 

‘I know you’re his daddy,’ Niall states then. ‘I mean, I don’t really care as long as he’s happy.’

 

‘Okay.’ Zayn doesn’t quite know how he should react.

 

‘I mean, I know, but it doesn’t bother me. So, don’t worry.’

 

‘I won’t.’

 

‘Good. I didn’t expect you to be like this, though,’ Niall muses, almost lying in his seat.

 

‘Like what?’ Zayn asks, genuinely curious.

 

‘Caring. And like, really fucking kind to him.’

 

‘Oh. Thank you.’ Zayn parks in front of the building and stops the engine. ‘We’re here. Here’s the keys. Go open the door and I’ll get Harry in, okay?’

 

‘Aye, aye, captain.’

 

Zayn goes to get Harry from the backseat. Harry is surprisingly cooperative, following Zayn’s lead the best as he can and snuggling into Zayn’s side the minute he’s out of the car. It takes them a few minutes to get to the apartment, but all in all it goes better than could be expected. Zayn kicks the door closed and gets Harry straight to his bedroom. He sits him on the bed and strips him down to boxers.

 

‘Lie down, babe,’ he says softly and Harry moves clumsily up the bed and lies exactly in the middle. Zayn can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. He pulls the duvet over him, kisses the tip of his nose and leaves the room quietly.

 

‘Niall?’ He calls out softly. He wants to check on Harry’s friend, too, so when there’s no response from him, he goes further through his apartment until he notices lights coming from one of the other bedrooms. The door is open so he goes straight in. ‘Niall?’

 

The boy gets out of the adjacent bathroom then, his jeans already gone.

 

‘How are you doing?’

 

‘Fine. I’ll take a shower and go to sleep.’

 

‘Okay. I’ll leave you some painkillers and water on the bedside table, just in case.’

 

‘Thanks,’ Niall smiles. ‘And thanks again for coming to pick us.’

 

Zayn smiles back. ‘You’re welcome. Although, don’t make a habit of it,’ he adds half-playfully, half-seriously. He may not always be available in a situation like this. ‘I’ve put Harry to sleep already, so don’t worry about him.’

 

‘Great, you’re awesome, mate.’

 

‘It’s nothing, really,’ Zayn smiles again and shrugs his shoulders. ‘I’ll leave you to shower, bring the pills and water, and I’ll be going.’

 

Niall nods. ‘Sure thing, mate.’

 

‘It was nice to meet you, Niall.’

 

‘You too. Goodnight!’

 

‘Goodnight.’

 

Zayn goes out then and does just as he said, leaving painkillers and water for both of them before he goes home.

 

***

 

Harry opens the door in an oversized, stretched out sweater patterned in Christmas trees and Santa Claus’ hats. It’s cute. Also, it’s the only thing he’s wearing (well, maybe some boxers as well) and _woah_. Harry has ridiculously good legs.

 

‘Hey babe, how’s your head?’ Zayn asks, and his eyes are twinkling with amusement. Harry pouts. ‘What’s with the pout? I’m your prince on the white horse!’ Zayn grins and ruffles his curls. ‘Speaking of which, where’s your tiara?’

 

‘Pewter,’ Harry mumbles and moves inside the apartment.

 

‘Excuse me?’

 

‘Pewter horse. Your Audi is pewter.’ Zayn rolls his eyes because _of course_ Harry would point that out, then hugs him and kisses his temple. He hugs Zayn back and Zayn swears there’s a moment when he considers climbing him. Harry’s always cuddly, but today even more so.

 

‘Is Niall here?’

 

‘No, he went out with some mates of his, right after you called me.’

 

‘Oh. Did I spoil your reunion plans, then?’

 

‘No, Niall’s staying for the whole week and besides, he has other friends who also want to meet up. So, it’s alright.’

 

‘Okay.’ Zayn plays with one of his curls. ‘Is it alright with you, if we also spent tomorrow together?’

 

‘Really?’ He nods and Harry lights up. ‘It’s more than okay,’ he answers and nuzzles his neck.

 

‘Good. I really enjoy seeing you like this, but you’ll have to get dressed now.’

 

‘Where are we going?’ Harry asks, eventually letting go of Zayn.

 

‘I’ve booked a restaurant,’ Zayn says and Harry cheers – he loves wining and dining, and knowing Zayn the place will definitely be elegant, so he instantly thinks of his fanciest clothes to wear. He goes for a light grey dress shirt, and tops it with black trousers and jacket, but decides against wearing a tie. He steps out into the living room and strikes a pose, with one hand on his hip. ‘Is this okay?’

 

Zayn shamelessly looks him up and down. ‘Perfect. Are you ready? Can we go?’

 

‘Yes, please,’ Harry nods and his curls bounce up and down.

 

They leave and Irvin drives them to BT Tower. Harry’s impressed.

 

‘Top of the Tower?’ He asks to check his assumption.

 

‘Precisely,’ Zayn answers and gets out to open the door for Harry. Harry swoons a little inside. They go swiftly into the building and up in the lift. It’s when Zayn opens the door of the restaurant for Harry as well, when he stops dead in his tracks.

 

‘Zayn?’ He asks, slowly looking around.

 

‘Yes?’

 

‘Did you – ’ Harry stops and looks around the empty restaurant again. ‘Did you book _the whole_ restaurant?’

 

Zayn rubs his chin, like he always does when he’s not sure of someone’s reaction. ‘I _might_ have,’ he says. Harry looks at him with such fondness in his almond-shaped eyes, that he loses all uncertainty that he had with regards to his plan for celebration of Harry’s birthday. It was a good decision, then.

 

‘Shall we?’ He asks, taking Harry’s hand in his and gesturing to the table in the middle of the room. Harry nods and they go, Zayn moving forward to pull a chair for him. Harry takes a seat, a hint of blush adorning his cheeks. Zayn sits down in front of him and a waiter comes with a bottle of Champagne and a crystal bowl full of strawberries with sweet cream on the side. Harry’s eyes widen.

 

‘Zayn, seriously, this is a lot – ’ he starts but Zayn interrupts him.

 

‘Au contraire, Harry,’ he says and reaches forward to tip Harry’s chin up. ‘It’s your birthday and I’d like to celebrate it properly.’ He smiles at him warmly and continues, ‘Let me pamper you, Harry.’

 

They look into each others eyes for a while, only breaking the eye contact when Harry leans to kiss Zayn’s fingertip. Zayn’s eyes crinkle in a smile. ‘Let’s have a toast,’ he says, pouring Champagne into the tall, crystal glasses.

 

‘What will we toast to?’ Harry asks, reaching for his glass.

 

‘To you, obviously,’ Zayn says lightly and tips his glass so that it clinks gently with Harry’s, and they take a sip. ‘Happy birthday, Harry.’

 

They both take another sip and reach for strawberries at the same time and Harry laughs. It’s a very pleasant sound, deep with a nice timbre to it.

 

‘The next toast should be to you,’ Harry states with a pointed look at Zayn.

 

‘To me? Why?’

 

‘Yeah, ‘cause – ’ Harry lowers his eyes and bites his lower lip. ‘My blog has been visited over ten thousand times throughout two months and my end-of-the-year summary of British stock market goings-on was cited in the last issue of The Economist. And, well, you were the one to talk me into setting my blog up. Um, here’s a photo,’ Harry slides his phone to Zayn, still chewing on his lip. Zayn looks at the photo of the page of the magazine with a paragraph devoted to Harry’s summary with his name and blog address in brackets.

 

‘Harry, that’s so great! Wow!’ Zayn exclaims and Harry preens a bit at his reaction. ‘You’re absolutely great, I’m so proud of you.’

 

‘Thank you.’

 

‘You’re incredible. You’re running your blog for what, three months now?’ Harry nods. ‘Wow, you’re gonna get great sooner than I expected.’

 

‘Stop it, I’m not. Not yet, at least.’

 

‘I think you are, though. You know what you want to do and you’re doing what you can to make it happen. I admire that about you.’

 

‘I’m sure you were driven in Uni, too, considering your success.’

 

Zayn smiles and shakes his head. ‘I was not, by any means, driven,’ he puts down the Champagne glass and looks to the side, where the waiter lays their dinner. He waits until he’s done before continuing. ‘I had some ambitions, sure, but I had no idea what I wanted to do in life. At the beginning uni was just fun for me – hanging out with mates, having parties… Going to classes, too, but I didn’t engage in anything extra-curricular. I had this conviction that I’d just figure everything out along the way.’

 

‘And you did.’

 

‘Yeah, totally by accident.’

 

‘What do you mean?’ Harry frowns and puts down the cutlery.

 

‘Liam and I worked on a project together, for one of our classes. We were to plan expenses of a company and use the base capital in the most economic way,’ he stops for a while. ‘It turned out that we did a very good job of it and that got us thinking. It was Liam who finally suggested that maybe we should try setting up a business.’

 

Harry says nothing for a while, only staring at him. Zayn laughs. ‘What, your ideal has fallen?’

 

Harry rolls his eyes. ‘No, and you know it. You have to be very talented to be this successful.’

 

Zayn shrugs. ‘My point is, that you have a bright future ahead of you.’

 

‘I’d like to think so, too.’

 

‘To future.’

 

‘To future.’

 

They clink their glasses together again and turn to finish their meal. The dinner ends with Harry in Zayn’s lap, Zayn feeding him strawberries and kissing the leftover cream from his plush lips. They’re tipsy on Champagne and mutual infatuation, and pleasantly so. When there aren’t any more strawberries or Champagne, Zayn tugs Harry by his hand towards the glass walls.

 

‘I love city at night. It’s beautiful,’ Harry comments in a hushed voice, his nose nearly touching the glass. Zayn leans against it on his side and stares at Harry, not even pretending to spare more than a glance to a panorama of London at night. ‘It’s dark enough that you don’t see its flaws. You can either feel tricked or amazed by that.’

 

‘And how do _you_ feel?’

 

Harry turns to face Zayn, a small smile playing on his lips. He’s breathtaking like this.

 

‘Amazed.’

 

‘Me too,’ Zayn says leans in to kiss him. He intends just for a small peck, like the ones they’ve been trading all evening, but Harry has other ideas, apparently. He caresses Zayn’s cheek with one hand, curling the other over his neck. Zayn embraces him then and pulls him flush against him. Harry licks at the seam of his mouth and Zayn parts his lips immediately, feeling a spark cross between them when their tongues touch. Harry sucks at his tongue and Zayn’s eyes roll from pleasure. Harry’s all soft touches and teasing licks and it makes Zayn feel like he’s on fire.

 

Harry breaks the kiss then, leaning his forehead on Zayn’s. Zayn bumps their noses and Harry laughs.

 

‘How do you feel about leaving?’ He says in a low voice.

 

‘Oh god, yes,’ Zayn answers and this time they both laugh.

 

‘Come on, then.’ Harry grabs Zayn’s hand and pulls him after him.

 

Irvin drives them back as quickly as possible, kind enough not to comment the fact, that they’re constantly touching each other. As soon as they’re in the building, Zayn pins Harry to nearest wall and snogs him, until Harry starts swapping at his chest. ‘C’mon,’ he urges him upstairs, and when they finally stumble through the front door, Harry cleverly slips out of Zayn’s arms before he can pin him against a wall again, chanting ‘Bedroom, bedroom, bedroom, bedroom.’ He only turns when he’s already in his bedroom – or rather, his favourite bedroom. Zayn is leaning against the doorway, watching Harry with his hands in the pockets. Harry smirks and keeping his distance peels off his jacket at a torturously slow pace, Zayn’s eyes never leaving his body. He holds out his hand and Zayn saunters over, his eyes almost black.

 

‘C’mon, babe,’ Zayn breathes as he sits down on the bed and pats his lap. It’s a testament to how aroused Harry is that he follows his gesture without a second thought. Zayn catches his lips in a kiss once again.

 

This time their kissing gets more and more heated, hands roaming all over each other. Harry starts grinding on Zayn’s lap, making the man break the kiss and moan loudly. Harry starts sucking kisses on his neck, then, his fingers undoing buttons of Zayn’s dress shirt, Zayn palming his ass all the while. When he’s done with the buttons, he draws back and opens the shirt, his hands gently caressing his chest.

 

‘Harry,’ Zayn sighs, his eyes half-closed, amazed at the change in Harry’s demeanour. He’s confident and enticing, no second-guessing, no hesitation in his touches and moves. Harry stills his hips and pushes at Zayn’s chest, and when he lies down, he leans and presses his lips right at the ones Zayn’s got tattooed on him.

 

‘Wanted to do this since I’ve seen it,’ he murmurs, his lips brushing at Zayn’s skin.

 

‘Yeah?’ Although he wants to touch Harry badly, he lets him do whatever he wants for now.

 

‘Course,’ Harry says and in-between placing kisses down his chest, his fingers popping his trousers open.

 

‘What else did you want to do?’ Zayn asks, massaging his scalp with one hand. He loves Harry’s hair.

 

Harry looks up from where he’s right above his navel with a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘This,’ he answers before taking Zayn’s cock in his mouth. It feels so good that Zayn resigns from holding himself up, and just lies down and lets himself enjoy it. Harry bobs his head up and down alternating between quick and slow pace, his hand moving expertly at the base of his dick. Zayn thinks he might be in heaven.

 

But Harry stops then and Zayn can’t help the whine escaping his lips, which startles a laugh out of Harry.

 

‘That good, huh?’ He comments, a picture of cockiness even with drool dripping down his chin. Zayn couldn’t be more turned on.

 

‘You wear too many clothes,’ Zayn manages to get out and gets up to tug at Harry’s pants. Harry laughs again.

 

‘Going straight for the goods, are we?’ Unfortunately for him Zayn’s already caught his breath and he tackles him to the bed, landing on top of him and holding his arms above his head. ‘Not so mouthy now, huh,’ Zayn comments as Harry pants, his pupils blown wide and leans to bite at his collarbones. Soon they’re rocking their hips together, moaning at harder thrusts.

 

‘Don’t wanna, _ah_ – ’ Harry gasps, squirming under Zayn. He releases one of his nipples from his mouth, still thumbing at the other one.

 

‘Yeah, babe?’ He asks, drinking in the sight before his eyes.

 

‘Want you to fuck me,’ Harry breathes out. ‘Please.’

 

It’s Zayn’s turn to bite his lip hard, his stomach muscles clenching at Harry’s words. Before he can start doing anything, Harry moves up enough to reach the bedside table and gets out the lube and condoms.

 

Zayn groans and pulls Harry into yet another kiss, not as hasty as the ones before, as Zayn’s main interest for now is to get them naked. When they manage that, Zayn takes his time kissing and touching Harry’s body, his mind foggy with arousal. He moves one hand to play with Harry’s hole – Harry’s breath hitches at that and the next thing Zayn feels are Harry’s nails scratching his back, Harry huffing quiet ‘oh, oh, oh’ everytime he’s close to his prostate or adding a finger.

 

He’s three fingers deep when Harry forcefully tugs his hand and moans out, ‘Go on, do it, want you.’ These are exactly the words Zayn’s been waiting for. He puts a condom and lubes himself up in no time and presses in outright. Harry throws his head back, groaning a ‘ _fuuuuck_ ’ when Zayn’s finally fully sheathed inside him.

 

‘Babe – ’ Zayn wants to tell something, like how perfect this feels, but finds himself unable to form any comprehensible strings of words.

 

‘Move, move, _move_ ,’ Harry gasps after a few minutes, tightening his legs around Zayn’s waist. It’s the only incentive he needs to start moving, slowly at first, building up a rhythm and taking Harry apart with deep, forceful thrusts.

 

Harry scratches his back again, this time harder and Zayn winces slightly. Harry only gasps out ‘Faster, c’mon.’ Zayn complies at once, feeling a strain from holding back for this long.

 

‘Ah, ah, _Zayn,_ ’ Harry moans and arches his back, the next few thrusts tipping him over the edge. ‘Zayn!’ He all but screams and Zayn chases his own release and with a few quick moves of hips he joins Harry in ecstasy.

 

It’s a good few minutes before any of them moves, both panting from exertion. Zayn’s first to move, pulling out of Harry and lying beside him.

 

‘You’re perfect,’ he whispers before gathering him in his arms and covering them with a sheet, city lights illuminating them.  
  
  


_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel so drained after writing the last scene, this will be quick:
> 
> thanks a lot for kudos and comments - they're the best reward for my work. I love u xx.
> 
> Special thanks to harryhanlon for inspiring me with some 'sexy tunes' and MaddyTinkerbell for her understanding of my whining.
> 
> Have a great week, y'all!


	8. Chapter 8

_

 

 

Zayn and Harry hang out considerably more frequently since his birthday. They’re also a lot more tactile with each other, trading kisses over meals, or snuggling while working on their respective assignments. They even try to organise their schedules so that they have breaks more or less at the same time and can spend them together – Harry’s never in his life felt more doted on.

 

It’s great, really, how they never seem to tire of each other’s presence, welcoming each other always with the same happiness, saying goodbye always with the same heartache. Because they may have not admitted that out loud, but they both know it got deeper than their initial deal. In fact, Zayn spends so much time over that he brings a few changes of clothes with him once, mostly casual but there’s a suit too, and puts them aside Harry’s things in a wardrobe in his bedroom.

 

Winter starts to back out slowly, giving in to the teasing actions of Spring as March approaches. After achieving all of his goals in the first semester, Harry sets out to do even more now. He, Alice, and some of his other mates, sign up to an economical-political discussion group run by graduate students and supervised by two of his professors. Harry knows now, that it was a very good decision, as thanks to this organisation he’s getting to do something he considers very profitable to his future. Even though they’ve just joined the group a few weeks ago, they’re already given an amazing opportunity.

 

‘So, Zayn,’ Harry starts one time after they haven’t seen each other for a week, twisting his fingers like he only ever does when he’s anxious about something. Zayn saves the document he’s been working on and sets his laptop aside, giving Harry his undivided attention.

 

‘You’ve cut your hair,’ Zayn states, surprised. Harry blinks confused at the abrupt change of topic.

 

‘I did, yeah. Thought I would look more professional,’ he shrugs and plops down on the couch next to him. The next second Zayn’s already running his fingers through his hair. It doesn’t curl now that it’s shorter, rather coming off in stylish half-waves. It’s a different look but it suits him – makes it more noticeable how angular his face is. Zayn has a feeling, though, that Harry would look good no matter what he did with his hair.

 

‘Do you like it?’ Harry asks quietly looking up at Zayn, and only then does he notice that in his quest to feel Harry’s hair, he has moved almost into his lap. He smiles at this wonderful, beautiful boy.

 

‘Very much. It suits you,’ he adds and leans in to kiss him, like he’s done so often during these past few weeks. It’s a soft kiss, with no heat or hurry behind it.

 

‘I think so, too,’ Harry admits. ‘But – ,’ he stops and bites his lip. ‘I kinda miss the curls.’

 

Zayn laughs then. ‘Regretting your haircut already?’ He teases, ‘you’re like my sisters.’ He bumps noses with him, eyes crinkled from how wide he’s smiling. ‘Don’t worry, it’ll grow out,’ he adds and pulls Harry into a horizontal position, so that they’re facing each other, lying on their sides. Zayn cradles his face in his hands, swiping his cheekbones with his fingertips.

 

‘Ask me why I want to look more professional,’ Harry says after a while, breaking the comfortable silence that has settled around them. Zayn moves his hands from his face at once and looks at him more attentively.

 

‘Why do you want to look more professional?’ He asks indulging Harry as much as his own curiosity. Harry’s eyes are downcast.

 

‘There’s like, an annual convent held in Brussels,’ he starts explaining. ‘It’s called Youth of the Nations panel and there are like, debates and a conference on European Union politics and – ,’ he stops and bites the inside of his cheek. Zayn patiently waits for him to finish, suspecting some good news to come. ‘Alice and I, uh, we signed up to this discussion group at the beginning of this semester? And well, our professors thought that our conference entries were good enough to send us. To Brussels, I mean. _Zayn,_ ’ he whines. ‘You’re crushing my ribs!’

 

Zayn starts shaking with laughter then, but doesn’t let go despite all of Harry’s squirming, and soon they’re laughing together, playfighting until Zayn lands on top of Harry, their chests heaving from exertion.

 

‘Congratulations,’ Zayn says seriously and Harry gets even more pink in the cheeks.

 

‘Thanks.’ Harry smiles, clearly pleased and proud of himself.

 

‘You know what else would help you look more professional?’

 

‘What?’

 

‘A designer suit,’ Zayn whispers straight into his ear and bites his earlobe gently. ‘So we should go get it. When’s it happening?’ He asks as he’s getting more comfortable on top of Harry, slotting their legs together.

 

‘Um, next week actually.’

 

‘And you’re telling me just now?’ Zayn narrows his eyes and pinches one of Harry’s nipples, making Harry squeal in surprise.

 

‘I wanted to call you! Really!’ He exclaims and Zayn raises his eyebrows in mock-disbelief. ‘I just got distracted and then caught up in other stuff…,’ he trails off and shrugs. He looks Zayn straight in the eye, ‘you’re not actually mad, are you?’

 

Zayn’s eyes soften.

 

‘Of course I’m not. I’m really proud of you.’

 

He leans and kisses the tip of his nose, then each of his cheeks, placing a soft peck on his lips at last. Harry parts them at once and sneaks his tongue past them to lick at Zayn’s mouth, until he opens it too. Zayn moves his hands to Harry’s hair, just as Harry’s are slowly moving down his back, massaging and kneading the flesh there, only stopping on top of his ass. Zayn sighs into the kiss at that, swirling his tongue around Harry’s in a teasing way and sucking on it lightly, causing Harry to groan and squeeze his arsecheeks firmly and pushing him on his groin.

 

Zayn moans into the kiss and grinds down to meet Harry’s moves. Just as it seems that this make-out session will go further, Zayn’s phone starts vibrating in the pocket of his chinos. He breaks the kiss and sends an apologetic look Harry’s way before retrieving his phone and checking the caller ID.

 

‘It’s Liam,’ he says and sits up. ‘I’d better take this,’ he adds as he’s accepting the call. ‘Liam, what’s – ’ he cuts off and Harry stops moving and watches the changes going through Zayn’s face, sitting up as much as he can considering that he’s still pinned by Zayn. ‘Calm down, Liam, I’ll be right there,’ he stops with a frown on his handsome face. ‘I know, but everything will be alright. I’ll be right there,’ he repeats and hangs up.

 

‘What happened?’ Harry asks, worried himself too, now that he sees how shaken Zayn is. Zayn rakes his hand through his hair and looks around, locating his sweater and jacket. He gets off from Harry and collects them and Harry stands up, too. Finally Zayn turns to him.

 

‘Sophia fainted and fell hard,’ Zayn answers and tugs his sweater on, a state of anxiety taking over. ‘They’re in a hospital now.’

 

Harry throws on a jumper and jacket of his own and catches Zayn by the door.

 

‘Give me your keys. I’ll drive you,’ he says, his voice commanding. ‘And text your wife.’

 

Zayn nods and hands him the keys – he knows that he’s in no state to drive. They get down and into the car in no time. Zayn lights a cigarette as soon as he’s seated and it’s the first time Harry doesn’t complain about it.

 

They drive in silence, Zayn lost in his thoughts and worry. Harry turns to look at him a few times and that somehow reminds him to text Perrie.

 

When they finally get to the hospital and Harry parks and then kills the engine, Zayn’s stomach is in knots. If anything went wrong, it would kill Liam as much as it would kill Sophia.

 

‘Come on,’ Harry’s voice startles him out of thoughts. ‘Liam needs you.’

 

Zayn nods and gathers all his strength to put up a brave front for his friend. He gets out of the car and goes straight into the building. Once in, it takes him a while to take in his surroundings and find an information board listing wards and their floors. Having read it’s a second floor he’s looking for, he goes straight up and notices Liam right away – he’s pacing up and down the corridor, hunched in on himself.

 

‘Liam!’ Zayn calls out and Liam turns immediately and half-runs to him.

 

‘Zayn!’ He exclaims and throws himself into his arms. ‘Harry,’ he adds and only then Zayn notices him standing at his side. He wasn’t aware that Harry followed him inside. ‘So glad you’re here. I’m out of my mind, I – If anything happened to them, I don’t know what I would – Soph has just – ’

 

‘Have you got any news yet?’ Zayn interrupts him and puts his hands on Liam’s biceps in a grounding gesture.

 

‘They’re running tests. They told me I have to wait,’ he answers, more coherent as he’s focused on Zayn’s direct question but his voice is so small it’s heartbreaking.

 

‘Then that’s exactly what we’re going to do,’ Zayn says in a sure tone. ‘We’ll wait.’

 

Liam nods at that, seeming a tiny bit less lost in this situation, and Zayn hugs him again. Harry feels a bit like he’s intruding, so he mumbles ‘ _I’m gonna go grab some tea_ ’ and not waiting for any of them to acknowledge him, leaves at once.

 

He wanders through the corridors in the search of a canteen. He could buy it in the first tea/coffee automat he’s passed by, but he wants to give Zayn and Liam more time. He gets to the canteen eventually and buys two cups of tea and goes back. When he steps from the lift he sees another person standing with Liam, besides Zayn – it’s a woman with blonde hair and in a magenta coat. It takes him only one short glance to notice how close to Zayn she stands and that she’s actually holding his arm.

 

_So, that’s the wife_ , Harry thinks then, before he turns on his heel to leave, two steaming styro-cups still in his hands. He gives one of them to the receptionist and the other to a tired-looking nurse – both of them accept the tea, surprised but grateful.

 

He’s already outside when he notices that he still has the keys to Zayn’s car. After a split second of hesitation he gets into the car and drives away.

 

_Oh well_ , he thinks a bit spitefully, _Zayn will just have to drive with his wife_.

 

***

 

When he wakes up the next day, there’s a bouquet of pale pink tulips waiting in a vase on the kitchen table. Harry blinks in confusion when he notices them, still sleepy and not fully comprehending before his first shot of coffee for the day. He walks over and picks up the note hidden among the leaves. It says _Thank You xx._ in Zayn’s handwriting.

 

Harry sits down heavily then, groaning. He rakes his hands through his hair, memories of events of last night hitting him with unexpected force. He feels ashamed remembering how jealous he felt last night and what his reactions were.

 

Before he can start overthinking every little detail and berating himself for it, his phone starts buzzing on the table. He picks up without checking the ID – he’s sure it’s Zayn.

 

‘Hi, how’s Sophia?’ He asks immediately.

 

‘Good,’ Zayn’s sounding tired and it makes Harry feel even more embarrassed.

 

‘And the baby? Everything alright?’

 

‘Everything’s fine with the baby. Sophia’s just on a bed rest for the next few days and has to go for some additional check-ups.’

 

‘That’s good. I’m glad they’re fine,’ Harry sighs, a feeling of relief washing over him. He’s taken to Liam through these months that they’ve known each other, and is sure that Sophia is just as a great person as he is.

 

‘We all are. Liam’s still fretting and probably won’t Sophia do _anything_ for the rest of the pregnancy, but I can’t say I blame him for it.’

 

‘Yeah, me neither.’

 

‘Listen Harry – I owe you a huge thank you for yesterday.’

 

‘No, you don’t,’ Harry says quickly.

 

‘I do, though. So, thank you. For driving me to the hospital, for reminding me of important things, for taking the car later – ’

 

‘It’s nothing,’ he interrupts him. ‘I love the flowers,’ he adds softly.

 

‘I hoped you would. I gotta go now. Take care, babe.’

 

‘You, too. Bye.’

 

They hang up and Harry looks at the flowers in front of him, touching the petals lightly with fingertips. Maybe he’s not such a bad person after all.

 

***

 

Brussels is in many ways not at all what Harry expected it to be and exactly what he hoped for. He finds himself overwhelmed even though he’s had a more or less detailed plan of his stay for about a week and a half, but the real thing beats even the most detailed plans.

 

The five-day conference, with all its meetings and debates, turns out to be even more intense than Harry thought it would be. There are people who are just as passionate about politics as he is and it feels incredible. Apart from spending time in the building of European Parliament, participating in different assignments and whatnot, all of the participants take time to get to know groups from other countries. All of them thank whatever God they believe in that they all stay in the same hotel as for the next day in the row they stumble back to their respective rooms around midnight.

 

By the time Friday comes Harry’s completely exhausted – living comfortably with Zayn’s constant help made him more susceptible to something less than optimal conditions, still feeling in his legs the Wednesday sightseeing trip they made mostly by foot.

 

So when he finally arrives at his hotel and comes back to his room to grab his things and head for the airport he’s so sleepy he doesn’t notice anything around him, keeping his eyes downcast, lost in his head. He only raises his head when he smells familiar perfume. He sniffs and lifts his head and –

 

‘Zayn?!’ He exclaims in surprise and runs over to where Zayn stands with a bouquet of pink roses, in a chic, dark blue double-breasted suit, his suitcase on the floor beside him. Harry stops mere centimetres away from him.

 

‘Hi babe,’ Zayn greets him with a broad smile, his voice sounding a bit husky. ‘Thought I’d surprise you,’ he says and hands Harry the flowers. Harry smiles so wide he thinks his face has never been this close to splitting and leans to smell the roses, enjoying the soft touch on their petals on his nose. His heart is beating so fast that it’s a miracle that he manages to stay in place.

 

‘Hiii,’ he says eventually and hugs Zayn, who circles his arms around him at once. ‘It’ a very lovely surprise,’ he comments, his voice muffled from where he’s burrowing his face in the crook of Zayn’s neck.

 

‘Very lovely?’

 

‘Yes. Wonderful even,’ he steps from Zayn’s embrace and cradles the roses in his arms. Zayn laughs at that, and he’s so fond of this boy in front of him he fears his heart could burst.

 

‘If you take your things and check out, we can carry on with surprises,’ he comments off-handedly and Harry snaps to attention quicker than he thought possible, considering those last few days.

 

‘There’s more?’ He asks, eyes wide, feeling on top of the world already.

 

‘There’s more,’ Zayn confirms with a smirk.

 

Harry packs his things in a record time, meanwhile Zayn is calling the airport and confirming the reservations. Soon, they’re ready to go and step out of the hotel and Zayn takes his hand in his and leads him to the limousine parked at the main door. Harry would surely stop and stare if it wasn’t for Zayn holding his hand. He holds the door open for him when they get into and Harry is rendered speechless.

 

‘Do you feel like eating?’ Zayn asks him, his eyes shining, his thumb brushing over Harry’s knuckles, as he hasn’t let go of his hand.

 

As if on cue, Harry’s stomach grumbles and they both laugh at that. ‘Clearly, I do,’ Harry comments, feeling slightly less stunned.

 

‘Great. I hope you’ll like the restaurant. I’ve only been there once, but I liked how quaint it was.’

 

As it turns out Harry and Zayn have quite different understanding of what constitutes for a quaint restaurant. The place is spacious, the main area ballroom size, with crystal chandeliers and exotic flowers in pots, soft jazz music performed by a live band by the inner wall. Harry stares around and keeps bumping on Zayn and stepping on his feet. ‘Sorry,’ he says for what seems like a millionth time, but Zayn only smiles and shakes his head. He looks amazing tonight, his hair styled with a parting, his beard carefully trimmed – Harry has a lot of naughty thoughts, having already felt how deliciously this beard burns while kissing. It probably burns even better in other places.

 

Their table is in a smaller and more warded off are of the restaurant, a waiter already lighting candles as they take their seats. Zayn’s holding the chair for him and Harry blushes bright red and mutters ‘thanks’. Zayn orders a wine and turns his whole attention to Harry, clasping his hands together and rests his chin on them. It’s… intense.

 

‘How was it?’ Zayn asks. ‘Are you glad you came here for the conference?’

 

‘I am, very much so, yes,’ Harry stumbles over his words a little. It’s excusable with how Zayn’s watching him. Harry goes for the brave thing to do and continues. ‘It was great. I’ve never met so many people interested in politics _and_ wanting to do something with it. Remarkable.’

 

‘How did your speech go?’

 

‘It went well, I think. I loved the discussion that stemmed from it afterwards,’ Harry answers and they clink their wine glasses. It’s a red Pinôt and Harry thinks it’s unfair how great taste in _everything_ Zayn has.

 

‘It’s fantastic to hear that,’ Zayn’s smiling again and well, it’s a lot for a person to handle.

 

They share the meal and keep up their conversations, Zayn mentioning Liam’s fretting, but a better state of mind and his own doings with Harry away. He doesn’t say a word about when he decided to surprise Harry, or what else he’s planned, but Harry feels so content he hasn’t got any urge to find it out. With Zayn, he just lets things happen and focuses on enjoying them – and he has a feeling it makes Zayn at least a bit happy to do things for him.

 

After the dessert, during which Zayn’s sweeter than the almond-crème ice cream they ordered, brushing off the remnants of chocolate from the nook of his mouth with a napkin, they get on with Zayn’s master plan of surprises.

 

‘So I thought that maybe we could walk to the next place,’ Zayn suggests. ‘If you’re not too tired, that is.’

 

And well, Harry is tired, but Zayn surprising him and the lovable prospect of holding his hand while strolling through the city have Harry hyped.

 

‘I’m alright, let’s do this!’

 

Zayn gest a whoop of excitement then and Harry feels that at heart, their age difference is at least a half less. They soon start a game of sneaking kisses to each other, doing it so that the other is surprised. Harry’s so giggly and happy through all of this, that he forgets all about the lingering ache in his legs and sleepiness.

 

Their next stop is an outdoors ice rink, which despite Spring waltzing in, still looks pretty festive with all the colourful lamps and stands with teddy bears and so on. Zayn pulls Harry to one of the stands and buys them a bag of animal-shaped jellies and a sparkly balloon for Harry, and Harry can’t contain it any longer – he kisses him right there, pushing his tongue in, pouring all the passion and emotion he feels.

 

‘We made quite a show,’ Zayn whispers to him when they pull back and – wow, actually they have, people starting to turn away from them just now. ‘Wanna skate?’ Zayn asks and jerks his head in the direction of the ice rink.

 

‘Is that a challenge?’ Harry poses a question of his own, his eyebrow raised.

 

‘Maybe,’ Zayn answers and bites his lip.

 

‘You’re on Malik. Gonna kill you with my moves!’ Harry exclaims and Zayn laughs so hard he’s actually clutching his stomach.

 

As it turns out, Harry is quite good at skating, but it ends when he keeps showing off and they’re goofing around and Zayn has to save him from hurting himself. He’s spinning and one of his skates gets stuck and he falls hard, Zayn catching him in the middle before he can split his head open on the ice. The force sends them down on the ice, though, and while it is a bit painful, they both realise it could have ended much worse. They both catch their breath before standing up, Zayn keeping his arm around him until they reach the bands.

 

‘So,’ Harry starts, still feeling embarrassed.

 

‘Hey, smile,’ Zayn says and pretends to be screwing his fingers into Harry’s dimples. ‘It was great, I loved the adrenaline rush.’

 

‘You’re just saying that,’ Harry says petulantly, fighting to keep the smile off his face.

 

‘How about a long, hot bath, huh?’

 

‘It’s never sounded better than now,’ Harry admits and Zayn kisses the tip of his nose.

 

They get out of the rink and Zayn calls for the limousine again. As soon as they get into their hotel apartment, they both head to the bathroom, shedding clothes as they go.

 

 

_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! A few things I want to say:
> 
> Kudos and comments are great - they keep me going :)
> 
> UnboundX - I really appreciate your comments, you always get what I'm trying to convey!
> 
> Also, I've gone back to my old url, so if you want to find me I'm at narcoticreading.tumblr.com
> 
> Now, check your teeth for cavities and see you next week!


	9. Chapter 9

_

 

Another month has passed and Harry sees how much time he’s spent with Zayn, how jealous and possessive he gets of his time and attention, and decides to do something about it. He decides to put a little bit of distance between them, to go back to the way they were before his birthday. It seems like a reasonable idea to him, especially now that his friends have pointed out to him, that he hasn’t gone out with them anywhere that’s not uni for quite some time. It’s true, and Harry knows that, knows that he almost always opts for a quiet night in, snuggling with Zayn, watching films and sipping wine. He loves evenings like this, but… Falling for a married man, and a father at that, is one of the worst ideas in the world, Harry feels. And so, it needs to change.

 

He’s also never thought that he could break a family. And yeah, maybe it is hypocritical of him, since he doesn’t intend on stopping getting physical with Zayn, but – that’s his limit, that’s the one boundary he doesn’t see himself ever crossing.

 

It’s one of the evenings that they’re spending together. They’re sitting in the living room, for the third time this week, both focused on their work, low hum of music in the background – some vintage Rn’B that Zayn loves. However, instead of relaxing and cherishing Zayn’s presence next to him like he always does, he’s antsy and fidgety, unable to stop his thoughts from wandering around the topic of Zayn’s family, his wife, daughters, and how anything he does with Zayn affects more people than he’d ever like to.

 

‘How’s this that you’re here so often but you don’t say a word about your life at home,’ Harry wonders not for the first time, but it’s the first time he decides to voice this.

 

‘I’m rarely discussing what’s happening at home with third parties,’ Zayn states not raising his head from where he’s tapping on his laptop and Harry flinches, feeling as if his cheek was slapped. It’s also enough of a confirmation to him that it’s gone too far and he needs to retract, even if only a bit.

 

‘Oh,’ he says and it sounds off even to his own ears. It makes Zayn look at him then.

 

‘Oh, Harry,’ he says softly and comes over to sit by him. ‘I didn’t mean to… It’s just, I don’t talk about you at home, and I’m giving the same courtesy to Perrie. Do you understand that?’

 

Harry nods, logically knowing it’s a good explanation and that it would be very weird if Zayn was discussing their arrangement with _his wife_ , but emotions get better of him. Zayn must sense it, too, because he circles his arms around him and just holds him. ‘Babe,’ he whispers, before kissing his hair. ‘You know that you’re dear to me and that I care about you, right?’

 

There’s apprehension in Zayn’s voice and that’s what consoles Harry at last.

 

‘Yeah, I know,’ he whispers and lets Zayn cuddle him in his strong, warm arms. He simultaneously loves and hates that Zayn makes him feel so strongly. This time he decides to focus on the ‘loving’ part once again, already making up his mind that he’ll make the changes he wants to next week.

 

‘Good,’ Zayn says, a note of decidedness in his voice. ‘Never believe otherwise.’

 

Harry turns to glance at him and almost startles at how intense Zayn’s gaze is. He could fall for him, is the thing, and he’s very aware of it. He has never expected Zayn to care so much when they started this whole sugardaddy/ sugarbaby thing. He has also never thought that this arrangement would become so ingrained in his life.

 

‘I won’t,’ Harry reassures him and only then Zayn smiles, his laugh lines deepening with the action, the beginnings of crow’s feet just visible. He’s stunning. ‘I’ll make some tea, yeah?’

 

‘Sure,’ Zayn nods and lets go of him. Harry leaves for the kitchen, where he busies himself with putting away the cutlery and plates from the dishwasher. Finally, he puts the kettle on and leans over the counter on his elbows and looks out of the window. The kitchen is probably his favourite room in this apartment – with big, bay windows, the whole room spacious enough to serve as a dining room and even a living room as well. The view from the window often causes Harry to lose himself in his thoughts – it’s just a simple park, a few trees, a couple of benches, some flower beds, but it feels like home to him. He’s going to miss it when the times comes for him to move out.

 

Zayn finds him like this, sat in a chair from where he was looking out the window, snoozing with a mug of tea in his hands that’s long gone cold. ‘Come on,’ he says softly, and his voice is so warm Harry wishes he could wrap himself in it like in a blanket. Zayn takes the mug out of his hands and takes his hand in his and leads him through the apartment, only a few small lamps lit along the way. Harry could probably try to wake himself a bit more, but it’s so nice letting Zayn lead him to bed and put him under the duvet. All the while he’s whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

 

He’s asleep again before his head hits the pillow.

 

***

 

Harry wakes up the next day unsure as to what roused him since he doesn’t hear any alarms going off or his phone ringing. He blinks and yawns, stretching his arms to the front and that’s when he feels it – there’s an arm thrown over his stomach, which means that (yeah, the tattoos confirm it) Zayn stayed the night.

 

He _never_ stays the night. No matter what they do or how late he comes over, he just never does that. Harry doesn’t know what to make of it and he’s still not awake enough to give it much thought. He’s also already decided to try and put some distance between them starting next week, so it doesn’t bother about him too much, at least now when he’s still in a state of hazy sleepiness.

 

He snuggles back against Zayn’s chest and as he wiggles his hips to get more comfortable, he grows warmer, a blush creeping up his neck as he feels Zayn’s hard member pressing lightly into his hip.

 

Harry should probably ignore it, what with the way he’s feeling lately and all, but – next week, right?

 

So he moves his butt a bit further into Zayn’s groin after lowering his pants so that they sit just under his buttocks, wanting to feel his erection between them. He’s feeling more aroused with every passing minute, too. He wedges one of his hands between them, getting desperate for skin on skin contact. He takes Zayn’s cock out of his boxers and strokes him ones, sparing a second to regret not grabbing lube before springing into action. As it is, he feels too lazy to actually reach to his bedside table and besides it would mean moving away from Zayn, which, not an option. He brings his hand back and licks over it in broad stripes before reaching behind him again. Zayn’s not fully hard yet and Harry strokes as best as he can given that the angle is slightly off. He’s unusually proud of himself when he feels first droplets of precome on his fingers and on the skin of his butt.

 

Harry smears it down his length before tucking it between his arse cheeks. He starts moving slowly, in tiny increments, up and down, sighing when the cockhead catches on his rim. Zayn’s arm tightens around him then, and his hips match Harry’s rhythm. His hand falls to Harry’s cock, and his lips cover his ear, he’s leisurely dragging his tongue over the shell of his ear.

 

‘ _Zayn_ ,’ Harry moans out his name and squeezes his arse cheeks as much as he can, and a groan rumbles from Zayn’s chest. The sound makes Harry weak in the knees.

 

It’s too hot under the covers, but they’re both too aroused to care. Zayn drags his teeth down Harry’s neck, his thrusts harder and stronger. Harry knows that there’s no way he can last any longer, and comes when Zayn bites his shoulder, Zayn’s hand almost too rough on his cock.

 

When his shudders subside he notices how sticky he feels both in the front and in the back, their pants the only sound in the room.

 

‘What’s the day today?’ Zayn asks a few minutes later, in between placing kisses all over Harry’s neck. He’s freed them of the duvet and Harry’s super thankful for that. ‘Saturday..?’

 

‘Friday,’ Harry answers and turns in his arms just in time to become a witness to Zayn’s “oh shit” face.

 

‘What’s the hour?’ Zayn asks, his body stiff, eyes opened wide.

 

‘Um, I don’t know? Wait a sec, I’ll grab my phone.’ Harry sits up and checks the time. ‘It’s 10,’ he says wincing and Zayn swears loudly and gets out of the bed, almost tripping because of his boxers still stretched over his thighs.

 

‘Why don’t you take a quick shower and I’ll bring you a suit?’ Harry suggests wanting to be of any help, really.

 

‘You’re the best,’ Zayn smiles and blows him a kiss disappearing in the adjacent bathroom number two.

 

Not even a quarter later Zayn is out of the door and on his way to the office and Harry’s alone in the apartment.

 

_So_ , Harry thinks still feeling uncomfortably sticky, _the distance, right?_

 

***

 

‘Zayn!’ Zayn hears Liam’s voice call out as soon as he steps his foot on their floor. Late. With his hair still a bit damp from the hasty shower. He groans.

 

‘Yes, Liam?’ He asks as he turns around to face his friend.

 

‘A word?’ Liam hangs his voice expectantly, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

 

‘Yeah, sure,’ Zayn says and goes straight into his friend’s office, running hand through his hair. He winces immediately after doing it, even though his hair is already ruined so this can’t really make it worse.

 

Liam blinks at him and asks, ‘New hair?’

 

Zayn glares before remembering that he shouldn’t be the one glaring here. ‘Look, I know I’m late, I’m sorry – ’

 

‘Zayn,’ Liam interrupts him, looking confused but determined. ‘I’m not going to call you out on being late. Not now, not ever.’

 

Zayn feels a bit stupid – explaining himself before being accused? Really? What is happening with him? He sits down in one of the armchairs in front of Liam’s oak desk, Liam taking the other seat.

 

‘I wanted to talk to you about something else,’ he states and makes his concerned face. ‘I like Harry and I think he really is a great person…’ he trails off.

 

‘I’m sensing a _but_.’

 

‘But what exactly is it that you’re both doing? I know you say Perrie knows about this – ’

 

‘She does,’ Zayn interrupts, perhaps a bit too quickly. He feels jumpy.

 

Liam sighs. ‘I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around why she’s okay with you basically cheating,’ he continues, incredulous but not judgemental.

 

‘We have a deal,’ Zayn mumbles. The last thing he wants to do is to talk about it.

 

‘It’s a weird deal,’ Liam points out.

 

‘It’s still a deal,’ He maintains stubbornly. ‘She could be doing the exact same thing for all we know!’

 

Liam stares him down. Zayn has a fleeting thought that he’s got better at it over the years.

 

‘And how much do you know about what your wife’s doing lately?’ Liam asks, in hope of getting his point through.

 

‘What are you even – ’ Zayn starts, but Liam interrupts him.

 

‘Don’t get mad, I’m not your enemy, for God’s sake!’ Liam takes a calming breath before continuing. ‘Just be honest with yourself.’

 

Zayn is clearly disgruntled, but does as his friend asked him to nonetheless. He starts thinking, trying to remember a moment when he and Perrie talked. Not about girls, or shopping, or their dog’s next vet visit, but just talked with each other, sharing what’s happening when they’re not home. It’s – it’s been a while.

 

‘Look, Zayn – I like Harry, I really do. Just don’t entangle yourself in something you can’t handle.’

 

‘I can handle this,’ Zayn says, his voice still distant. Liam doesn’t say anything for a while, glad that he’s managed to make Zayn think about it a little.

 

‘I know she has allowed it, but I don’t think she expected this to last this long.’

 

‘It’s been half a year,’ he mutters, more to himself than to supply Liam with information.

 

‘That is quite long,’ Liam nods to himself, then squeezes Zayn’s arm comfortingly. ‘Just remember that everyone has their breaking point. And I wouldn’t want to experience Perrie’s.’

 

Zayn nods at that. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I know,’ he says softly, because he doesn’t want to either.

 

***

 

Harry’s friends are equally surprised and glad when he starts hanging out more with them outside of uni. It makes him realise that he missed that – the silly playfulness, the gossip, weird discussions… Harry feels refreshed and cherishes the attention he gets.

 

‘So, you’re not dating anymore?’ Clarence, one of his mates, asks one time.

 

‘I wasn’t dating,’ Harry sings songs, twirling his drink.

 

‘’Yeah,’ he laughs. ‘You tell yourself that,’ he says and pats his back.

 

Harry only rolls his eyes and launches on a different topic. He knows what they suspect, but they’re also kind enough not to pry too much. Most of them think that Harry is just a private person. Which he is, if he thinks about it. It’s all good like that, and they help out each other a lot – not that they need any hep in passing classes, it’s just that they’re striving for something better, for their dreams.

 

It also turns out that both he and Alice want to go into politics – it’s exciting to be able to share this with one of his closest friends. The specifics of what they want to do differ (Alice wants to become the Mayor of London), but it gives them the opportunity to share their findings and information, and make plans for the future.

 

Harry’s with his friends out again, although this time a bigger group tagged along. Generally, he doesn’t have anything against big gatherings, but they’re in a club and it soon becomes crowded, people shouting to each other from opposite ends of the table, some sloshing their drinks while making their way back to sit down. And well, Harry isn’t a fan of things like this. It’s too loud and too crowded and he’s not drunk enough to just take it all in stride and have fun either way. Besides, he knows it’s a lost cause when he already started thinking about all of it and planning how to leave. With this idea planted in his mind, he knows that he won’t stay.

 

He makes a point of finishing his drink without rushing it, and then he’s off, grateful for the chill in the air that almost instantly makes him feel better and clears his head. He catches a cab and goes home.

 

***

 

It’s one of those days when Zayn absolutely _has to_ stay late in his office and he positively hates it.

 

He sighs again and rubs his tired eyes. He’s almost done and feels himself succumbing to the thought of sending the rest to Liam or one of his assistants to finish. Liam’s already gone home, however, ushered out by Zayn himself as he urged his friend to go spend some time with Sophia and get emotional over catalogues with onesies.

 

He lays his head on the back of his leather armchair and closes his eyes. After only a few seconds he opens them again and writes the remaining conclusion of a report, which in few days will be discussed over by the board of governors, meaning him, Liam and two middle-aged couples coming from old money.

 

Zayn’s phone beeps startling him from his relaxing position, where he was already starting to nod off. He taps his password and looks at the message.

 

_Oh_.

 

It’s a message from Harry – a photo of him lounging most likely naked in the silk sheets with a laconic caption: _I’m horny_.

 

Zayn doesn’t think twice before dialling his number.

 

‘Hiiii, Zayn,’ he hears in the speaker and it’s _so Harry_ he has to smile.

 

‘Hi, how was your night out?’ He asks, purposely not mentioning his photo and starts putting things from his desk away – he doesn’t like leaving anything out in the open, it’s a little phobia of his.

 

‘Good, but I left early – too much people in, _ah_ , one place.’

 

Zayn stops dead in his tracks.

 

‘You’re playing with yourself, aren’t you,’ he deadpans, feeling himself getting hot, the images of Harry’s gorgeous body easily flooding his tired mind.

 

‘Only a little bit.’

 

‘What are you doing, then?’

 

‘Just – fingers. It feels _good._ ’

 

‘It does, doesn’t it,’ Zayn hears Harry humm a confirmative response as he unzips his dress pants and sits in a more comfortable position on the sofa in the corner of his office. ‘Are you nipples hard?’

 

‘Uh – ’

 

‘You should tug at them,’ Zayn says lowly and they both know that it’s _not_ a suggestion.

 

‘The silk feels so nice against my skin,’ Harry rasps out and Zayn tugs on his cock. Harry’s voice is made for this. ‘You should decorate all of the apartment in silk’

 

‘Even the couch?’ Zayn teases knowing it’s Harry’s favourite piece of furniture in the whole apartment.

 

‘Yeah, even, _ohh_.’

 

‘Hmm, we’ll see about that,’ Zayn says lowly, his voice wondering. ‘How many fingers?’ He asks as casually as possible, which they’ve discovered is a huge turn-on for Harry.

 

‘It’s – ’ Harry’s voice breaks. ‘Three,’ he rasps out and it’s Zayn’s turn to moan, and he moves his hand quicker, flicking his wrist just the way he likes. ‘Yeah baby? I should buy you some silk nightwear, too.’ Harry’s breath hitches at that and it spurs him on. ‘It would tease you all night long – ’

 

‘I – Zayn, _close_.’

 

‘Me too, baby,’ he mutters, his voice husky. ‘I’d kiss all over your thighs if I were there,’ he continues. ‘Make them all red and burning from my beard. Would you like that?’

 

‘Yes,’ Harry hisses out. ‘So, _so much_!’

 

‘I love doing that, too,’ Zayn admits, feeling himself lose all composure. ‘I’d bite, _uh_ , your ass, delicious little ass – ’

 

‘Zayn!’ Harry shouts and Zayn closes his eyes to picture the sight that he surely is better. It’s enough to tip him over the edge, too.

 

‘Soooo,’ Harry drawls out, and his voice sounds even lower now that he got off. ‘Thanks for that.’

 

Zayn laughs at that, and can’t seem to stop. Harry joins him a second later, and they’re both equally ridiculous, really. ‘Yeah, thanks,’ he finally manages to get out. ‘Very nice break from work, it was.’

 

‘Work!’ Harry exclaims. ‘I’ll better leave you to that, then.’

 

‘Yeah. I really should get back to it.’

 

‘Don’t let me keep you.’

 

‘I would, though,’ Zayn sighs and immediately after it leaves his mouth he realizes how big admission it is. ‘I mean, I don’t really want to do anything more today, but kinda have to.’

 

‘Okay, Mr Malik, I’ll just hang up and you do what you have to do to keep those millions coming,’ Harry teases over the phone and promptly hangs up.

 

Well shit.

 

_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been two months! Time flies, innit?
> 
> This chapter wouldn't have been written if it wasn't for Adele's magnificent album: 19. So, shout out to Adele I guess?
> 
> You're all very nice for leaving kudos and comments, and for dropping by my ask as well - I appreciate that very much :)
> 
> Also, the next update might take me longer to finish - sorry about that.


	10. Chapter 10

_

 

Harry stays true to his word and puts some distance between Zayn and himself. The formal side of this is not as tough as he expected it to be – the semester is ending and he’s quite busy getting credits for his classes, anyway, so he has less free time. He’s engaging more in the debate group as well. He doesn’t know if Zayn somehow got the hint, or if it wasn’t as mutual as he thought, but he’s not coming over nearly as much as he used to over the last three months. It’s for the best, though, so Harry’s not raising it up in their talks. They’ve gone back to meeting mostly for coffees and lunches, and that’s exactly what he was aiming for, so he should feel satisfied, really.

 

Only, he’s not.

 

Technically, he doesn’t have time to miss Zayn. However, it is hard to unlearn certain habits he has managed to pick up – like depending on Zayn to make him feel better or less insecure about new things he wanted to try to do, or expecting quiet nights in, filled with cuddling and soft kisses. It also hurts him a little that Zayn hasn’t at least asked what’s the issue, that he doesn’t seem upset even in the slightest, which he subconsciously expected him to be, and just goes with it. It’s not… pleasant, that he just seems to be okay with it. It’s like Harry’s on detox, trying to clear his mind enough so that his every other thought is not running to _him_. It does wonders to his self-discipline and eventually the feeling of hurt subsides, coffees and lunches again becoming his favourite part of the day.

 

Harry has received a few gifts lately – pricey, and absolutely lovely – and he wonders if it is Zayn’s way of saying “ _sorry I’m not paying enough attention to you_.” And – it’s not like Zayn needs to do that. It’s sort of nice, though, so Harry’s not saying anything against it. After all, he’s pretty sure he can sense an impending end of it in the foreseeable future – might as well benefit when there’s still an opportunity.

 

***

 

Zayn doesn’t know why, but Harry has withdrawn from their relation quite a bit. He hasn’t said anything about it or provided reasons for such a change and Zayn hasn’t pushed him either, especially seeing that it came right in time. He has meant to do the same, but Harry beat him to it – which, as he said, happened right in time.

 

It’s neither nice nor easy staying away from Harry and Zayn learns it the hard way. His infectious laugh, his easy presence, sharp comments and interesting opinions on topics of scale larger than their homeland – these are all the things that Zayn misses. They also show him how far from their initial agreement things between them evolved. He’s never assumed that it could go like that, never expected it to. It’s as much amazing as it is scary, and it shouldn’t be this way, not when the boundaries should have been always clear and uncrossable. So Zayn keeps his mouth shut and fights the habit of reaching for his “Harry phone” every free moment he has and everytime he thinks Harry would appreciate information he has, and most importantly – he keeps himself busy.

 

On a rainy, Saturday afternoon, Zayn finds himself helping his older daughter, Aisha, make a herbarium album for school. There are leaves of different kinds and shapes scattered around them with no rhyme or reason, along with blank pieces of paper, glue, one volume of encyclopaedia and tablet on a coffee table, all at the ready. Zayn has absolutely no idea where most of the leaves come from, and even when he recognizes one or two he doesn’t know what’s the name of tree or bush, or maybe it is a herb after all? He squints his eyes, takes photos of each and every of them and curses under his breath whoever came up with an assignment like this.

 

‘You’re no use, daddy!’ Aisha states frankly, frowning disapprovingly at him. ‘You don’t know any herbs, trees or bushes!’

 

He can’t argue with that and she sounds so anguished and earnest that it makes him want to apologise profusely and explain himself.

 

‘But I like that you’re home,’ Aisha adds after a longer moment of consideration and he definitely wasn’t expecting a blow like this. It’s just a comment on his daughter’s part, an observation she’s made, but to him it’s a blow straight into his spleen.

 

‘Yeah,’ he admits, feeling of guilt heavy in his stomach. ‘Of course I am.’

 

She nods to herself, focused on sticking onto the paper one of the leaves they’ve somehow managed to categorize.

 

‘Didn’t you do the herb – herbarium album at school, daddy?’ She asks, concerned.

 

‘I don’t remember, sweetie.’

 

‘Well maybe you didn’t and that’s why you don’t know any of it?’ She wonders, flipping her hair away from her eyes. _Just like Harry does_ , his treacherous subconscious supplies him. He shakes his head at himself and goes over to Aisha, and braids her hair as well as he can.

 

‘Thanks, daddy!’ She beams up at him, her eyes a carbon copy of his own.

 

They have five specimens ready when Perrie comes to join them, bringing them some juice and fruit cut in cubes – the form favoured by girls.

 

‘Mum, look what we’ve done with dad!’ She exclaims excitedly, thrusting the effects of their works into her mother’s hands.

 

‘Let me take a good look,’ Perrie starts, her voice serious and judging. ‘Oh, it looks wonderful! Has dad helped you a lot or just a little?’

 

‘Only a little ‘cause he doesn’t know any leaves,’ Aisha says immediately and Zayn snorts quietly. Clearly menial, physical work is not valued by his daughter very much. ‘He had to check every leaf!’ She adds in a stage whisper, leant into Perrie’s side conspirationally.

 

‘Really?’ Perrie asks and she sounds as surprised as Aisha was. Zayn admires her acting skills. ‘But you’ve helped him, right?’

 

‘Yes, mummy.’

 

‘That’s great, honey. Now, go wash your hands, the snacks are waiting for you.’

 

Aisha nods and scrambles to her feet at once.

 

‘You’re home more,’ Perrie says when Aisha is out of the earshot.

 

‘I am,’ Zayn nods, not really willing to delve into that.

 

‘You know…,’ she trails off and rights her bun. Zayn looks at her, noting how worry lines on her forehead seem more pronounced than few months ago. ‘I was really close to asking you to call it off.’

 

‘Call it off?’ Zayn repeats, an uneasy feeling creeping into his stomach.

 

‘Yeah,’ she says softly and smiles. ‘I’m glad you did it before I asked you to. I never want to share you again,’ she leans and kisses him on the mouth before getting up to check up on Kaylah.

 

Zayn has the urge to bang his head against nearest flat surface.

 

What’s he going to do now?

 

***

 

Having an internationally recognised company does not mean that everything always runs smoothly. Not even often. It requires quite a lot of effort to run smoothly _usually_. Moreover, much of it relies on people hired, so there’s always a chance that “the human factor” will cause trouble. And so, neither Zayn nor Liam are particularly surprised when one of their employees, from a group working on the wording of international deals, resigns at short notice. It’s unwelcome and problematic seeing as Zayn, Liam and four other governors decided that this year’s company’s goal is to go overseas more.

 

The news comes in when Liam and Zayn are talking with one of the other governors, Stacy. Liam’s secretary comes in and shares the news with him, leaving soon after. Liam turns back to the room and relays it.

 

‘One person from the group working on international deals has resigned as of today.’

 

‘On short notice?’ Stacy wants to make sure.

 

‘Yes,’ Liam nods. ‘It may cause some delays.’

 

‘I don’t know what people are thinking, really,’ Stacy comments, frowning. ‘Some notice would be nice.’

 

‘It surely would,’ Zayn agrees, rubbing his chin. ‘I think I know someone who could fill in the position temporarily…,’ he trails off and he and Liam share a look.

 

‘You mean Harry?’ Liam asks, always straightforward in business surroundings. Zayn nods trying to gauge Liam’s reaction.

 

‘Harry? Who is he?’

 

‘He’s a political sciences student,’ Liam supplies. ‘With quite good insight into economy.’

 

‘A student?’ Stacy sounds wary. ‘I don’t know…’

 

‘It won’t be permanent, obviously,’ Zayn says. ‘But it’ll buy us some time to hold proper interviews without falling behind in regards to our plans.’

 

‘And both of you think he’ll manage for the time being?’ She asks.

 

‘Yes,’ Zayn and Liam answer at the same time. Stacy looks convinced at that.

 

‘Alright, then go for it, I guess,’ she shrugs.

 

‘Okay. We’ll also start on the interviews immediately,’ Liam assures.

 

Stacy just smiles and leaves bidding them good bye. Zayn and Liam look at each other.

 

‘So,’ Zayn starts. ‘I’m a bit surprised that you weren’t opposed to my suggestion.’

 

Liam shrugs. ‘You’ve clearly given thought to the things I said. And as I have said before – I have nothing against Harry and I do believe that hiring him here temporarily is a good decision.’

 

‘I’m glad you think so,’ Zayn admits. ‘I hope he’ll accept our offer.’

 

‘I’m almost sure he will. Harry wouldn’t waste an opportunity like this. Do you know – do you think I could call him now?’

 

Zayn checks the time and tries to remember some of Harry’s schedule. ‘It should be fine as far as I know. Maybe send him a text to make sure?’

 

‘Good idea,’ Liam says as he’s already typing a message.

 

‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Zayn reaches for the door jamb. ‘Let me know what he’s decided, alright?’

 

Liam smiles. ‘Sure, I will.’

 

***

 

Liam is right, of course, and Harry really can’t imagine a situation where he would turn down an offer like this of his own, free will. They meet up the same day, Liam explaining everything about the job and setting a monthly time limit.

 

‘We should be able to find someone in a month,’ Liam says. ‘But if not, you’ll stay for another month, if you’ll still be interested.’

 

And so Harry agrees and signs the papers, somewhat thankful for the fact, that he only has one evening for stressing out. He feels unbelievably appreciated that Zayn and Liam decided to offer him the job. It’s also really humbling, the thought of how much faith both of them put in him.

 

Harry’s full of enthusiasm when Zayn picks him up the next day, jostling two to-go cups full of delicious coffee while getting into the car.

 

‘Hiii,’ he greets Zayn and smiles warmly. ‘I’ve got coffee for you, boss.’

 

Zayn laughs. ‘You don’t have to refer to me like that, you know.’

 

‘I want to,’ Harry admits. ‘Showing proper respect and all that.’

 

‘I see you’re in good spirits,’ Zayn notes, smiling to himself. ‘I’m glad. You’ll fit in the team in no time.’

 

‘I hope so. I’ll do my best, Scout’s word!’

 

‘I don’t doubt it for a second,’ Zayn says and Harry feels so warm in his chest he has to look at Zayn’s wedding ring to remind himself of what he’s decided. They’re good like this, with more distance between them.

 

‘Alright, we’re there,’ Zayn announces pulling the handbrake. ‘I’ll take you to your team and introduce you.’

 

Zayn does as he said and Harry’s immediately swirled into the job, people from his team putting him to different tasks at once. They start with giving him easiest ones, testing out his skills and abilities, but soon they find out that Harry handles well even some of the harder ones. He fits in with the team, just like Zayn predicted, working to the best of his abilities, and he’s glad he took care of semester projects earlier because now he definitely doesn’t have time for them. The people in Zayn’s company are all very smart, as Harry learns with time, and it’s very motivating for him – he tries to learn from his colleagues as well.

 

‘I feel like we still know very little about you,’ one guy from his team, Dustin, says one time. Harry leans back in his chair.

 

‘What would you like to know?’

 

‘You look really young…,’ Dustin ponders. ‘But that can be deceptive, I know a lots of people who just have baby faces. So, how old are you, Harry?’

 

It’s one of the questions Harry actually feared the first few days. It’s his third week in, though, and he feels more confident. ‘I’m nineteen,’ he answers truthfully.

 

Marina and Dustin stare at him unblinkingly. Along with Harry they’re the only people in the room.

 

‘I’m studying political sciences,’ Harry continues trying not to panic at their lack of reaction. ‘And I’m here just temporarily, as you know – ’

 

‘You’re still a student?’ Marina interrupts him with a question and it’s clear that she’s very surprised. ‘And you got a job here?’

 

‘Um, yeah?’

 

‘It’s – you’re sleeping with the bosses or what?’

 

‘I – ’ Harry wants to say something although he has no idea what he could say. It hit so close to home… He did get this job because of his and Zayn’s acquaintance. And Liam’s as well, he supposes. He feels his ears get warmer and he’s glad that his hair covers them, otherwise their redness would surely tip him off.

 

‘Marina, Dustin!’ Liam calls from where he’s standing in the doorway, saving Harry from a complete humiliation. ‘Are the documents ready?’

 

‘Yes, boss,’ she answers and goes over to him, Dustin joining her with copies that need to be verified. Liam smiles at Harry above her shoulder and not even a minute later they’ve gone to his office and Harry’s left on his own, Marina’s words rambling in his head.

 

***

 

By the time Harry’s month at Zayn and Liam’s company has come to an end, they’ve managed to find a new employee for the position he was filling in, and Harry couldn’t be more glad about it. He felt like he was sitting on hot rocks for the last week, avoiding any contact with Zayn or Liam and keeping to himself.

 

The reasons he’s had that made him put distance between him and Zayn seemed to him more real than ever. To top it off, the comment Marina made… He couldn’t shake it off, her words always there at the back of his mind. All of this made him think about his future and how certain things can be and may be perceived by other people.

 

At the beginning, Harry never considered being a sugarbaby to pose any problem. It’s his life and no one should dictate it, or tell him what’s wrong or right. He can now see how naïve it was of him to think this way, how short-sighted he was and totally not mindful of various consequences coming from engaging into relation like that. He sees now, that if he wants to make it on his own – or at least, try to make it – he needs to let go of Zayn and start depending on himself. No matter how much he cares for him. Or maybe, because of how much he cares for him.

 

That’s why he’s invited him to come over – so that he could say all of that and hopefully make Zayn understand the reasons behind his decisions.

 

‘Zayn. I’m glad you could make it,’ Harry says and lets him in, allowing his gaze to sweep across his posture, to ingrain this image in his brain for ever. They step into the living room – the place where they spent so much time together…

 

‘Harry, I’ll always make it for you,’ Zayn retorts softly. Harry bites his lip and breaks their eye-contact at that. Zayn frowns. ‘You said you wanted to talk about something?...’

 

‘I did. I – ,’ Harry stops and licks his lips nervously. ‘I don’t know how to begin, so I’ll just say it – we need to terminate our arrangement.’

 

Zayn looks only slightly shocked, as if he was sensing something like this could happen. He’s not saying anything, though, letting Harry collect his thoughts and say whatever he’s surely prepared to say.

 

‘You’ve been of great help to me those past few months,’ Harry continues, looking everywhere but not at Zayn. ‘I was able to do so many things I wanted because you were supporting me – and I don’t mean just financially – and I’m honestly so, so grateful. For letting me stay here, without worrying about bills. For being there for me and believing in me. For everything, really,’ Harry sighs, his eyes downcast and his voice getting quieter. ‘But we can’t keep on doing that. There’s your family to take into account and, - I – I need to make it on my own. Without anyone helping me out. Otherwise, it won’t be real, it won’t be what I really want. I’m so sorry Zayn, I – ’ his voice cracks, and Zayn moves closer to him.

 

‘Harry, Harry.’ Zayn says, smiling sadly at the wonderful young man in front of him. ‘You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear that you’re doing so well and only plan on getting bigger. It’s great for me to see that I was right all those months ago when we first met – I got a feeling then, that you’re intelligent and ambitious – and you absolutely are.’

 

He kisses him on the mouth. Harry feels weak in the knees.

 

‘I totally understand that you want to make it big on your own, and not in the shadow of anyone else – it makes me respect you even more. You’re fearless in getting what you want and I can only wish you all the best.’

 

Harry finally shakes off from the first shock.

 

‘I – Zayn, you – Why are you so good to me?’ Harry asks, his eyes brimming with tears. Zayn takes his hands in his and leans in to him.

 

‘Babe,’ he starts, ‘if there’s a chance that you can get your dreams come true, why would I hold you back? You can develop on your own, without the baggage of being associated with me. You want to get the full recognition for the things you do and don’t want any rumours of someone already in the business helping you out – it’s a very mature thing to do.’

 

‘I know. I just – I’ll miss you so, _so_ much, Zayn.’ Tears are streaming down his face and Harry’s not even pretending to try to stop them anymore.

 

‘Me too, Harry,’ Zayn whispers, cradling his face in his hands. ‘But I’ll be happy knowing that I didn’t stop you from accomplishing what you set for from the beginning.’ He takes Harry in his arms. He’s trembling. ‘Shh, baby. It’s a wise decision and I’m proud of you for making it.’

 

‘Thank you,’ is all Harry says back as he clenches his hands in Zayn’s dress shirt, his tears sipping through it where he lay his cheek on his shoulder. They stay like this for a long time – Harry crying quietly because he never was any good at letting people go, and Zayn cuddling him in his arms and petting his hair, wanting to keep him safe inside of his arms.

 

Finally, it’s Zayn who breaks the silence. ‘Come on, let’s eat something.’

 

Harry fixes him with an incredulous stare.

 

‘It’s our goodbye. Let’s make it proper.’

 

Harry nods at this and they go through motions preparing the meal together and before Harry notices, the mood gets much lighter and the finality of his decision no longer feels so life-ending. They decide to do the most fancy dishes they can think of and can pull off doing.

 

They eat mostly in silence, Zayn’s favourite jazz band playing softly in the background. They drink some wine and when they’re done, Zayn grabs Harry’s hand and pulls him up, then moves him a bit and – yes, they’re dancing, embraced in each other’s strong arms, the jazz singer sharing their love story, candles still lit up on the table.

 

Harry moves away a little and looks Zayn straight in the eye. Zayn’s hazel eyes are sparkling with emotion and Harry’s sure his eyes must be too, because they lean into the kiss at the same time. At first it’s gentle, all soft lips and barely there touches of tongue, but it gets more heated as they both become more urgent, wanting to get the most of it.

 

It’s not long before Harry leads Zayn by the hand to the bedroom and starts undressing slowly, his eyes never leaving Zayn’s and mouthing _I love you_ at him.

 

They gasp when their naked skin touches, the electricity between them even more prominent now, every feeling heightened a hundred times by the wait. There’s nothing rushed about it this time, both of them taking their time to map every inch of the other’s skin, every crevice and tattoo with hot mouths and clever tongues.

 

Harry moans unabashedly when Zayn’s tongue licks between his arsecheeks, his hands massaging them, then moving lower to squeeze the tops of his thighs and spread his legs wider. Zayn licks into him then, and Harry’s never felt like that – like he’s coming apart with every swipe of his tongue, with every suck of his lips on his rim. Soon, his tongue is joined by his fingers and Harry feels like he’s on fire.

 

‘Up, up,’ Zayn murmurs after a few moments, trying to get Harry to rise a bit and change positions. Harry blinks blearily at him and Zayn’s sure that if it was possible, he would hear the sound of his heart breaking. He sits up against headboard, tugging Harry after him – and he’s so pliant, he moulds into his arms sitting on his groin. Zayn rubs his back all the while pressing soft kisses into his neck until Harry finally finds his strength and raises up, reaching behind himself to grab Zayn’s hardness and whining when Zayn beats him to it.

 

‘Shh, babe, I’ll help ya,’ he mutters, his voice soothing.

 

Harry lowers himself slowly on Zayn’s length, his arms supporting him all the way. Zayn latches his mouth on one of his nipples and sucks hard, then swirls his tongue around the hard nub. Harry can’t help a whimper that leaves his mouth, and it’s like the door has opened and he can’t keep any of his sounds in, moaning and sighing, feeling with every fibre of his body. He hears Zayn is saying something, but he’s so out of it he can’t make sense of the words he manages to catch. It’s pure ecstasy for both of them and they reach their highs in each other’s arms, holding on for dear life.

 

They fall asleep still entangled in one another, slipping into the sweet oblivion.

 

Zayn leaves at the sunrise and the first light of morning has never seemed so cold to him.

 

***

 

The next day feels surreal to Harry – he’s in the same bed he’s been sleeping for more than half a year, still in the same apartment, his things all over the place. And yet the feeling of finitude overwhelms him so much he gulps in the air around him in a poor attempt at calming himself down. There’s no steady hand to squeeze at his shoulder, no strong arms to stop his trembling. He cries in the shower, droplets of water concealing his tears.

 

Eventually he gets out of the bathroom, readied as much as possible to face the reality. He pulls out his suitcases and bags first and brings them into the leaving room. There’s something calming in doing physical activities and Harry immerses himself in them completely. He’s packing everything he knows he won’t need in the next couple of days. He’s halfway through doing it when there’s a knock on his door and Harry frowns – not only has he not awaited any visitors, but also doesn’t actually want to see anyone right now. He pulls the door open hastily, annoyed, and then stares.

 

‘Niall, what are you doing here?’

 

‘Hello to you, too. Now, give me something to drink, I’m _so_ thirsty,’ Niall states and goes straight into the apartment, leaving Harry by the door. Harry closes it and goes to kitchen to make them both a cuppa, when he hears Niall call out.

 

‘Harry? Why are all your things there?’

 

Harry takes a deep breath and puts their cuppas on a tray and joins his friend before answering.

 

‘I’m moving out,’ Harry states and puts the tray down and sits down on the couch.

 

‘Why? What happened?’ Niall asks before sitting down in the armchair in front of him, Harry’s bags and suitcases scattered around the room.

 

Harry shrugs. ‘I don’t need him to be my daddy anymore.’

 

‘Harry,’ Niall gasps incredulously. ‘You never exactly _needed_ him to be your daddy.’

 

Harry shrugs and draws his knees to his chest and puts his cheek on them. It’s a heartbreaking sight, one that Niall never wants to see again.

 

‘Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think he’s ever been _just_ your daddy,’ he comments just to see his what his friend’s reaction will be.

 

Harry glares at him. Or at least, tries to. His eyes are too puffy and he looks too pitiful to do it properly. ‘Sure, rub it in, why don’t you,’ Harry rubs his eyes and makes up his mind to be honest with his best friend. ‘I called it off.’

 

‘Oh, Harry,’ Niall walks over to him and hugs him. ‘I’m really proud of you for making this decision. Even though it hurts.’

 

‘I can’t be with him,’ Harry says after a long while of them just cuddling and Niall rubbing his back up and down comfortingly.

 

‘I know,’ he sighs. He regrets not having stopped him when he first told him about Zayn. It was bound to come tumbling down from the beginning.

 

‘It sucks,’ Harry tries for petulant, but it comes out plaintive instead.

 

‘I’m sure it does.’

 

‘But I’ll make it on my own!’

 

‘Never doubted it, mate.’

 

They’re silent for a few moments.

 

‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ Harry says softly and puts his head on his friend’s shoulder.

 

‘Me too, Harry. Me too,’ Niall whispers and soon they both doze off, drawing comfort from how they’re tangled in each other, like they used to back in high school whenever one of them was upset.

 

_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was quite hard to write: emotions are all over the place there and mine are as well. But some things had to be done. Don't kill me?
> 
> Thank you all for reading, thank you even more for giving kudos and commenting, and for invading my ask! (I'm at narcoticreading.tumblr.com If you're as emotional about it as I am - come on in, we'll talk!)
> 
> Oblivion by Bastille is great comfort music after this.
> 
> 5 chapters to go!


	11. Chapter 11

_

 

 

The Malik household is hustling and bustling with life since the early morning hours. It’s become a routine for them ever since Kaylah announced that becoming a model is her ultimate dream and so she needs to stay in shape – and that’s how she has started her morning running routine, with Perrie joining her most days.

 

Zayn has his morning routine, too. Straight from the shower he heads to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of orange juice, slowly becoming more and more awake. By the time he starts the coffee maker, Perrie joins him and they sit together, both of them reading newspapers. His favourite mornings are like the one today – with the newest issue of The Economist, reading Harry’s column.

 

Zayn sometimes wonders what’s happening with Harry – what he’s doing with his life, his dreams… There are some things he wishes he’d know, like if he’s still doing everything he can to achieve his goals, if he’s happy, safe and comfortable, if he’s living up to his potential. It’s just of sheer curiosity, right now. There were the times though, much, much earlier, when Zayn would stare at his “Harry phone” debating whether to call him or not. But even then, he didn’t, keeping the promise they made not to contact each other. It wasn’t easy at first, and Zayn found himself reaching for his phone with the intent to call or text disturbingly often.

 

Nowadays he doesn’t do this anymore, the only act on his old sentiment being indulging in reading the column written by him. He hopes he’s happy and gets everything that’s best in life. He has stirred a part of Zayn that has been dormant for many years and he vowed to himself that he’ll never lose a hold of it again. Because of it he has started paying more attention to his daughter’s dreams and insisting on making plans for future together. It’s one of the reasons why he takes Kaylah’s desire to be a model seriously and tries to be helpful about it.

 

‘I’ll never get how you can get moon-eyed over some economic magazine,’ Aisha comments, startling Zayn out of his zone. He looks at his older daughter, who's peeking above his shoulder, a half-empty bowl of cereal clutched in her hands.

 

‘It’s just like you get all starry-eyed about that Ezra dude,’ he points out and shrugs.

 

‘It’s Ezra _Miller_ , dad,’ Aisha corrects him, lengthening the “a” in “dad” in exasperation. Zayn smirks, as she hasn’t protested to his statement. Ah, those celebrity crushes…

 

‘We’re leaving in fifteen minutes,’ he reminds her and goes back to reading.

 

‘What? I’m not ready!’ She exclaims and runs out of the kitchen, Perrie watching after her, her expression full of fondness.

 

‘Sometimes I wish they were still Woodie’s age,’ she comments, sighing softly. Even though she went for a run with Kaylah and the dogs, she looks ready to leave for work.

 

‘I think Liam and Soph would beg to differ,’ Zayn says and snorts remembering the last time they went to over to them and Woodie was absolutely uncontrollable, running around and being everywhere and anywhere at the same time. Perrie lets out a laugh as well, probably remembering the same situation.

 

‘Yeah, you’re right, it’s better this way.’

 

They fold their magazines and share a smile before kissing gently.

 

Zayn feels so comfortable and content that he doesn’t think there is anything that could happen that could make him want to leave that.

 

***

 

Alice Atchison-Styles considers herself to be quite a lucky person.

 

She’s working at the university and simultaneously trying to wedge herself into politics. Both her husband and she became members of the same political party before they even graduated, hoping to use the early start to their advantage. Of course, they weren’t spouses then. That happened two years ago, when they finished their masters’ degrees and found jobs to support themselves, their parents presenting them with an apartment as a wedding gift. They couldn’t have wished for a better start, really.

 

So, Alice thinks she’s quite lucky.

 

She was sure that Harry was the right man for her then, and she’s still sure of it now. They’re very similar – they’re both driven, putting their careers first before family and all this sentimental stuff. They also know how much more they can achieve working as a team _and_ being married. It’s truly astonishing how being married – such a trivial and increasingly unpopular thing to do – somehow makes you seem more trustworthy in the eyes of other people. Especially, your target electorate.

 

Alice doubts if she’ll ever be able to understand that. She definitely won’t argue with it, though, as she and her husband achieved what they wanted to in the late elections: she became an MP in the country, Harry became an MP for the European Parliament.

 

Other people – other _married_ people – would probably worry if their spouse was to spend majority of their time abroad, but not Alice. And it’s not because Harry is such a paragon of virtue, or because she trusts him so much – well, she does trust him, but it’s just that there’s too much at stake to risk their union for a fling. Both of them are too ambitious to risk their potential careers and that’s why they make such a great duo.

 

So when the day of Harry’s departure comes, she does everything as always, not a single thing falling astray in her morning routine. She’s not feeling anxious, only a little more awake than usual. Harry appears to be collected, too, when he joins her for breakfast.

 

‘Darling,’ he greets her and kisses her, his long hair dripping water on his broad shoulders. He’s not dressed up yet, choosing to eat breakfast a more comfortable attire than the suit he’s going to wear later.

 

‘Hello honey,’ she answers and puts away the newspaper she’s been flipping through. She smiles at him and asks, ‘how are you feeling?’

 

‘Good,’ he responds confidently and starts the coffee machine. ‘Excited and anxious,’ he adds as an afterthought, leaning against the counter.

 

‘I’m sure everything will go well,’ she says and gets up to hug him. She feels tiny against his chest when he embraces her, and it’s her favourite feeling in the world. ‘You’re stopping in Berlin first?’

 

Harry nods. ‘Yes. There’s going to be a “get together” I really want to cover for The Economist. I’ve talked with some of our acquaintances from Youth of the Nations panel, and they’re going to be there, too.’

 

‘It’d be unwise to miss it, then.’

 

‘That’s what I thought as well.’ He loosens his embrace to pour them both a cup of coffee. He’s not stressed yet, Alice thinks, but she can already see that he’s more withdrawn, getting into this headspace of his of extreme focus. She doesn’t want to startle him out of it, starting to feel a bit more concerned herself.

 

‘I’ll you leave you to packing, alright?’ She asks watching him closely for reactions. Harry is ridiculously good at schooling his features into a look of pleasant interest whenever his mood would imply otherwise, or he wouldn’t feel like sharing.

 

‘Okay,’ Harry nods and he seems really fine with it, so Alice nods, too.

 

‘Alright. Have a good flight, baby, and call me as soon as you land.’ She leans in to kiss him on the mouth. ‘I love you,’ she whispers against his lips, before pressing another soft kiss to them and turning to leave.

 

She hears an equally soft “you, too” when she’s in the doorway, and she flashes her husband one last smile above her shoulder.

 

***

 

Harry leaves for the airport much earlier than would be considered necessary, but he’s always preferred being on the move to sitting around and waiting. And so, he gets dressed, takes everything he’s prepared – his suitcase, laptop and messenger bag – and puts it in the boot of his car and gets in. He drops by the parliament office to confirm his flight and decides to go for a light lunch in a vegetarian restaurant – one of his favourite places to eat.

 

‘Unca Harry!’ He hears a child calling and he looks around attentively and, yeah, there’s Sophia smiling and waving to him with her offspring and it was definitely a call to him.

 

‘Woodie!’ Harry exclaims back and hosts the boy up as soon as he gets to him, both of them exchanging smiles. ‘How’s my favourite little businessman doing?’ He asks him, remembering from the last time they saw each other that Woodie is going through a phase of wanting to dress up and act just like Liam. Even now, he’s wearing a button-up shirt and a suede jacket. Harry adores him.

 

‘I’m good! I’m learning loads to help daddy with business,’ Woodie rattles off quickly.

 

‘That’s great, Woodie. Keep doing that.’

 

‘Hello Harry,’ Sophia greets him, catching up to them.

 

‘Hi, Sophia, how are you?’

 

‘Wonderful, aren’t we, Woodie?’ She says wryly, looking meaningfully at her son. 6-year-old Woodie can sure be a handful. ‘We’re just coming back from the doctor’s. Woodie had a vaccine.’

 

‘Oh dear,’ Harry comments. Woodie is surely brave but not many kids are brave when it comes to syringes and needles. Woodie nuzzles Harry’s neck. ‘Were you going straight home?’

 

‘Yes, we’re just wandering a bit.’

 

‘Would you like to join me for lunch, then? I was going to that veggie place nearby.’

 

‘Sure, let’s do this,’ Sophia smiles at him and Harry puts Woodie down at last. They go to the restaurant, order and get comfortable by the window.

 

‘So, what makes you wander streets of London instead of wandering the corridors of the Parliament?’ Sophia asks, sipping on carrot and apple juice they all got.

 

‘I’m actually flying out today. I’ve stopped by the office and figured I’d get lunch before getting to the airport.’

 

‘Today? How long will you be away?’

 

‘Till the end of the week, and then probably most weekdays.’

 

‘What’s Alice saying about this?’ Sophia teases. ‘I bet she’s acting all cool, but on the inside she’s shaking with jealousy.’

 

‘Well, it is _European_ Parliament, so there isn’t any other way of going about being an MP there,’ Harry amends, shaking his head a little. ‘Besides, she’ll be busy here, too,’ he shrugs and looks to where Woodie is doodling on a piece of paper that magically appeared out of Sophia’s Coco Chanel’s purse along with some stray crayons.

 

‘You should have your own,’ Sophia sing-songs looking at them with a fond smile. Harry laughs.

 

‘It’s far too early for me, Soph.’

 

She raises her eyebrow at him. ‘You’re twenty-six.’

 

‘Yeah, exactly.’

 

‘Don’t wait too long,’ she says quietly, so that only Harry hears her. ‘I sure know something about that.’

 

He looks her straight in the eye, but before he can respond to it, Woodie calls out to get his attention. ‘I can write my signature, unca Harry!’

 

‘Can you, now?’

 

‘Yes! I can show you!’ He exclaims excitedly and leans over the piece of paper, focused on showing off to Harry, who’s his _absolutely favourite uncle_ , right after uncle Zayn. ‘Here, look!’

 

On the piece of paper he shoves into Harry’s hands there’s written _Woodrow Payne_ in wobbly handwriting. Harry feels proud.

 

‘I’m impressed! Can I take it with me? I’ll put it up in my new office.’

 

‘Sure! I’ll make a drawing for you, too.’ He immediately sets for the task.

 

‘You don’t look like you’re stressing about this,’ Sophia observes.

 

‘I don’t? That’s good, I suppose…’ Harry trails off while a waiter sets their plates on the table. ‘I feel a bit stressed, though. It’s probably gonna get worse once I’m actually there,’ he adds when the waiter is gone. ‘It’s what I wanted for quite a while, so I hope I’ll make the most of it.’

 

‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,’ she says and checks on Woodie and the time. ‘When do you need to leave?’

 

‘In about half an hour.’

 

‘Woodie, did you hear your uncle?’ she asks her son, who’s currently munching on broccoli. ‘Is your picture ready?’

 

‘Yep,’ he answers popping the ‘p’ sound loudly and handing it to Harry wordlessly. Sophia looks at him pointedly.

 

‘What do we say, Woodie?’

 

Woodie thinks for a minute, before he exclaims, ‘here you are!’

 

Harry can’t help but laugh, casting a quick glance at the work of art he’s been given. ‘Thank you very much, Woodie. It’s very artistic.’

 

‘You’re welcome, unca Harry!’

 

Harry smiles at the little boy thinking how much he’s going to miss him. It’ll probably be quite some time before they’ll be able to meet for dinner again, like they used to meet through the past few years – he and Alice and the Payne family; but Harry feels ready for a bit of a change.

 

***

 

The flight to Berlin is as uneventful as one would expect. Zayn feels really thankful that it’s also relatively short and there isn’t enough time for him to get bored – it’s actually better for everyone involved since a bored Zayn is an insufferable Zayn and no one wants to deal with that. He busies himself with doodling on his tablet, grateful for the existence of business class and the conditions it means, with no one sat close enough to disturb him.

 

Recently, Zayn has started unleashing his artistic side more, designing patterns and structures for accessories used for electronic devices. It was Kaylah who inspired him to do this, constantly talking about fashion and showing everyone willing to listen different collections by famous and not so famous designers. Zayn has always appreciated nice clothing and accessories himself, so it wasn’t long until he was designing his own patters. Some of them he had produced, pulling the strings of old acquaintances, and so he, Kaylah and Sophia are already sporting some of his designs on their laptop bags.

 

He gets so immersed in sketching that before he notices the plane is landing and the pilot is welcoming them in Germany. He collects himself quickly, grabbing his things and leaving the plane swiftly wanting to avoid a crowd. Of course, it’s a big airport, so it’s never really not full of people, but at least he won’t be slowed down by those who flew with him. There’s some kind of issue happening, some people raising voices in anger. He has had to travel for business so many times though, that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash at some hustle at the baggage point. He looks around unimpressed and waits it out, getting back for his suitcase as soon as there’s a normal, calm flow of people.

 

It’s raining and Zayn is really glad he’s of high enough regard that there’s a taxi waiting for him specifically. He goes over to the driver that’s waving at him, hugging his suede jacket closer to him. The driver has his trunk open and helps Zayn with his bags. Suddenly, Zayn looks up from where he was stooped packing his baggage into the taxi’s trunk, turns as if someone called his name, and spots a tall silhouette with broad shoulders, clad in a chic trench coat and his heart stumbles in its otherwise steady pace.

 

The world around him stops.

 

***

 

When Harry lands in Berlin he’s in quite a mood. He feels that if by any chance his baggage gets stuck, he’ll start throwing threats and swearwords around. Not that it’d help him, but he’d let off steam at least. He struts through the passport point and thankfully, in spite of some hustle happening at the baggage point, he gets his in a few minutes. He pauses to put on a coat and moves swiftly towards the exit.

 

He swears when he gets outside – it’s raining and there’s about a hundred of people waiting to grab a taxi. _Great_. He tries to go for it anyway and almost succeeds, but the driver changes his mind and takes a family with a crying baby instead.

 

Harry runs a hand through his curls and takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm down a little, when someone touches his arms. He whips around so fast he feels a terrific pain in his neck. He hisses and squeezes his eyes shut.

 

‘Would you like to share a taxi with me?’ He hears the person ask and when he finally looks up –

 

‘Zayn,’ he breathes out, not truly believing it’s him, and here, out of all the places… He takes in the man’s fine appearance. He’s in a black turtle neck with a dark green suede jacket over it, a few days worth of stubble adorning his cheeks.

 

‘Come in, you’ll get soaked,’ he urges Harry into the taxi and smiles at him. He shakes out of the stupor and gets in. It feels so surreal that he finds himself at a loss as to what to even say.

 

‘So,’ Zayn starts, and yes, it’s really him, his voice unchanged through the years. ‘Out of all the places we could’ve run into each other it happens in Berlin.’

 

He looks over at Harry and his smile is so genuine that it breaks any awkwardness Harry’s felt. He laughs. ‘It is quite a coincidence, isn’t it?’

 

Zayn nods and humms. ‘Where are you staying?’

 

‘Um, some three-star place near the city centre. You?’

 

‘Adlon.’

 

‘Posh.’ During the last seven years Harry forgot exactly how rich Zayn is. ‘I wouldn’t expect any less of you, though.’

 

Zayn waves his hand dismissively. ‘I’ve been reading your column in The Economist. Congratulations.’

 

‘Thanks. There’s a chance that I’ll be writing longer articles as a permanent feature as well. Although we’ll see how that goes with my being an euro-MP.’

 

‘Ah yes, right, I’ve seen some information about it. Is that why you’re here?’

 

‘Partly. How have you been? I mean, I know that business-wise it’s only getting better, but…’ he trails off and glances at Zayn.

 

‘It’s been good. Aisha starts planning her future and for now wants to go into economics.’

 

‘Is she, now? Getting ready to take over your chair, boss?’ He teases, tugging at the longer strand of his hair. Zayn’s eyes follow the movement.

 

‘Probably,’ Zayn shrugs. ‘So, you got married, then,’ he says pointing to Harry’s ring finger.

 

‘Yeah,’ he answers, his eyes downcast. ‘I married Alice two years ago.’ He twirls his wedding band on his finger before continuing. ‘She wants to become our next Prime Minister, you know, so I’m gonna be her trophy husband in just few years.’

 

Zayn laughs. ‘You’re a natural, Harry. Don’t let your ambitions stand in the way of your true happiness!’

 

They both laugh at that, and it feels like the old times. Before any of them can say anything else, the driver announces Harry’s destination. Harry turns to Zayn, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

 

‘Thanks for calling me to the taxi. Maybe we could get a dinner together?’ He asks, anxious of what Zayn’s response might be, but knowing he had to do this.

 

Zayn touches his hand lightly. ‘Definitely. I’m really curious about your work.’

 

Harry smiles then, and yep, the dimples are still there. ‘Same here. Oh, and it’s gonna be my treat,’ he says and with that he gets out of the taxi and is on his way, trying hard not to turn, the only thing on his mind being _Zayn_.

 

_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun dun! What will they do next? Let's find out next week :)  
> I hope you've forgiven me for the last week and are still with me!
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos on the last chapter - you're the best xx.
> 
> I'm at narcoticreading.tumblr.com if any of you want to talk :)


	12. Chapter 12

_  
  
  
  
Harry’s afternoon is quite busy after he gets into the city centre sharing the taxi with Zayn. First, he checks into his hotel, then meets his friends who fill him in on the schedule and goes for the opening meeting. He’s extremely grateful for his brand new press pass, which allows him to attend almost every meeting put on schedule. He wonders if he’ll see Zayn somewhere during the meetings, before their dinner together. He’s already feeling more jumpy and anxious, watching every passing person closely. He would be lying if he claimed that seeing Zayn didn’t make him nervous – it certainly did, and with how easy and natural their conversation went… Well, this makes him even more excited for their dinner together, his expectations in this regard quite high.

 

Well, to be honest, he has no idea what to expect when it comes to Zayn’s words and actions, but he’s expecting a certain vibe a lot. A vibe he got when Zayn touched his elbow outside of the airport. The air of fondness and contentedness at seeing an old friend, someone who has been dear to you and you always smile at the memory of them.

 

 _A friend, huh_ , Harry thinks and fidgets in his seat, remembering how fine he looked mere hours earlier, with a proper but styled beard and his hair cut short. Somehow, his hair in Harry’s memory transitions into longer, and he feels as if he’s touching them again, and _woah_ , he didn’t expect it to go _that_ way.

 

He’s thought about Zayn a lot in the months following their “break up”, of course he has, and sometimes it ended in him having various wet dreams, no surprise there, really. The thoughts and dreams have stopped with time, especially once he got serious with Alice – his thoughts belonging to her, even if he occasionally did wonder how Zayn was doing and if he was happy. Theoretically he could have just asked Liam anytime it crossed his mind, but in those first months, when their friendship was still tentative and developing, he sensed that this type of questions would be unwelcome, and later on he has just learned to pick up things from their conversations or his chit-chats with Sophia, who often mentioned him, Perrie and the girls. Thanks to that, even if he didn’t know the details he would have liked to know, he had at least a vague idea of how Zayn was doing. He has never really stopped listening in on those mentions, he’s just ceased to catalogue them in his memory so carefully.

 

In the end he doesn’t see Zayn throughout the remainder of the day, not in a passing, not during any of meetings, and it’s only for good, really – Harry’s pretty sure that it would effectively distract him, which wouldn’t be good while he was on the job. So. A blessing, really.

 

The working day ends for him early in the evening and with a prospect of tomorrow starting late in the morning, so he’ll probably be able to sleep in a little. He’s just about to leave the conference centre and try to reach Zayn to arrange where they’ll go for the dinner (or _if_ they’re still going), when a receptionist stops him while he’s signing out.

 

‘Excuse me, Mr Styles?’

 

‘Yes?’

 

‘I’ve been asked to tell you that a car is waiting for you outside.’

 

‘I – thank you.’ It’s so _Zayn_ that Harry has no doubt it’s him waiting in the car outside, and only smiles to himself before going out. He walks straight to a silver Volkswagen, parked nearly in front of the main entrance – it’s the only car looking like it’s Zayn’s choice.

 

‘Hello Mr Malik,’ he opens the passenger door and greets the man inside. Zayn only rolls his eyes at him. He looks perfect in a maroon dress shirt, black leather jacket and black jeans. Casual, huh.

 

‘I’m not sure if I fit in,’ Harry observes, pointing to his navy blue suit, after settling next to him.

 

‘Details,’ Zayn waves it off. ‘It suits you. It’s all that matters,’ he adds and shrugs, offering no other comment.

 

‘Thank you. Where are we going?’

 

‘The restaurant at Adlon is pretty good; I thought we could eat there,’ he says and looks at Harry searchingly, as if expecting him to strongly object. Harry begins to feel confused.

 

‘Fine by me,’ he answers the unasked question. ‘It’s not like I know Berlin, anyway.’

 

They arrive at Zayn’s hotel not long after and Zayn gets out of the car quickly, not looking back at Harry. He’s nonplussed – is Zayn mad at him? Did he say something wrong? Maybe he read their conversation in the taxi the wrong way, and it wasn’t half as easy or natural as it seemed to him? Before he can get out of the car, the door at his side opens and it becomes clear then, why Zayn was so quick to leave the vehicle, as he’s the one to open them.

 

‘Sir,’ he says, gesturing for Harry to step out. Harry finds it irritably charming, but not at all enlightening as to what is going on with Zayn. He’s withdrawn and Harry feels a bit at a loss. He follows him and they make it up the stairs and into the restaurant in no time.

 

‘How was your day?’ Harry asks as soon as they’re sat at the table, and a waitress took their orders.

 

‘Good,’ is all Zayn says, distractedly. Harry decides to ask him some more questions to get the conversation going, but all he’s getting back are monosyllabic responses and it’s so unlike Zayn that he begins to worry. Well, there’s always a possibility that he has simply changed, although just this afternoon, a few hours earlier, he was just like Harry remembered him to be. He could be having second-thoughts about their dinner, perhaps just wants to get it over with… Before he can start second-guessing himself even further, he makes up his mind and plucks up his courage to ask.

 

‘You’re not in much of a mood, are you,’ he comments and leans his head to the side, staring Zayn straight in the eye. He’s a politician now, he can probably deal with confrontations better than average person his age.

 

Zayn sighs and rubs his face. ‘You’re right, I’m sorry,’ he responds, shaking his head a little. ‘I’m more tired than I even should be, considering what my day looked like,’ he explains and looks at Harry with an apologetic little smile on his face, although it’s clear that he doesn’t feel like smiling at all.

 

‘What do you say we finish the dinner quickly and go for a short walk? Just to refresh a bit before going to sleep?’ Harry suggests, feeling a lot better now that he knows that Zayn is just tired and a bit grumpy.

 

‘That,’ Zayn pauses and looks Harry in the eye, at last, a hint of real smile on his face, ‘sounds like a really nice idea. Let’s do this.’

 

‘Alright,’ Harry nods and finishes his dish. They are ready to go within minutes.

 

They walk out together, not saying anything to each other for a good few minutes, just breathing in the evening air, much fresher now that it stopped raining. The sun has set and the street lamps are lit already, although it’s not dark yet. They’re walking slowly, going straight ahead, the only sound being this of their shoes hitting the pavement. The silence between them feels easy and light, and Harry is content to just spend time with Zayn, strolling by his side. He glances at him every once in a while, checking up on him.

 

‘Thank you,’ Zayn says softly as they’re starting their way back to his hotel. ‘It’s what I needed,’ he admits and glances at Harry with fondness written all over his features. It strikes Harry then, that it’s as if their roles have reversed – those few years ago it was Zayn who was taking care of Harry, looking after him and watching out for him.

 

‘It’s no problem,’ Harry shrugs, smiling. ‘Are you feeling better now?’

 

‘Much,’ Zayn answers, smiling back at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. ‘Yer a wizard, Harry.’

 

The pun startles a laugh out of Harry. ‘I can’t believe you said that!’ He exclaims, feeling his face might split in two from how wide he’s grinning. He has always appreciated a good pun.

 

‘Would you like to come up for a drink?’ Zayn asks quietly when they reach the hotel’s entrance keeping his hands clasped together, and the soft way in which he does it seems almost shy.

 

‘I’d love to,’ Harry breathes out immediately, suddenly feeling as if the air was punched out of him. And frankly, he knows that it wasn’t even a thing to think through for him – he knows he’d answer the same way again in a heartbeat. He doesn’t know why and how it is possible, but there’s this distinctive pull between them and Harry can’t imagine trying to resist that. He shakes his head at himself as he’s following Zayn into the lift.

 

‘I’m not disturbing your plans for the evening, am I?’ Zayn asks then, biting the inside of his cheek. Harry wants to make him stop _so badly_ , and well – he’s not supposed to have thoughts like that, is he.

 

‘No,’ he responds instead, keeping his arms firmly by his side, ‘participating in the meeting was all I needed to do for today. I have more stuff to do tomorrow – like actually trying to come up with a decent note for the Economist’s twitter, a short summary of the meeting for my column and finally, writing down what I’d like to report in an article.’

 

‘Quite busy, then.’

 

‘Not too busy to grab a coffee,’ Harry comments and winks, and _gosh_ , why did he do that? But Zayn just smiles and motions for them to step out into the corridor on his landing.

 

They enter Zayn’s suite and it’s everything that Harry could possibly expect of a hotel of this rank and a room reserved for Zayn Malik. The furniture is all made of tasteful mahogany and there’s an actual crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Harry takes his time just looking around, admiring the beauty and tastefulness of each and every piece in the apartment, while Zayn hangs his coat and pours them drinks. He joins Harry in the main area, which could easily pass for a posh living room in some luxurious estate – a corner white leather coach placed so that it enables looking through the wall-high windows overlooking the city, is paired with a glass coffee table, on top of which there is a crystal bowl half-filled with water and a single white rosebud floating inside. It’s simply beautiful.

 

‘Do you like whisky?’ Zayn asks handing Harry his glass. ‘Sorry, I didn’t think to ask...,’ he trails off and Harry feels a tiny bit better now that he sees that Zayn is not as unaffected as he assumed.

 

‘It’s perfectly alright,’ he responds and Zayn smiles involuntarily, remembering this phrase from their first encounter, when a rosy-cheeked student desperately wanting Forbes caught his attention and not a month later, wedged himself into his life. He raises his glass in toast. ‘To good taste.’

 

Harry nods and clinks their glasses together. ‘You know, I’ve taken to whiskey because of Liam.’

 

‘Liam?’ Zayn repeats and furrows his eyebrows in confusion. ‘When were you two drinking whiskey?’

 

‘Um, you mean the first time he treated me to it? Or the last time we had a drink together?’ Harry asks as confused as he is.

 

Zayn stares at him unblinkingly. ‘I – when did you see Liam last?’

 

‘Two weeks ago. Alice and I were invited for dinner,’ Harry says slowly, his forehead marred by confused frown. With Zayn’s lack of reaction he puts two and together quickly – he must have no idea of him and Liam being friends. He rakes his hand through his hair and sits down on the couch, sighing. ‘I thought you knew,’ he says quietly, not sure what else he could add.

 

‘I didn’t,’ Zayn states simply and sits next to him. He swings a gulp from his glass. Harry follows his lead, the burning feel of alcohol being the exact thing he needed. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you’re friends, it was just… unexpected,’ Zayn continues after a while. ‘Although it certainly explains a lot about the “unca Harry” Woodie is sometimes on about.’

 

Harry smiles at the mention of the little boy he loves so much. ‘We’ve been keeping in touch all the time, since I stopped working for your company,’ he adds, wanting to clarify so that Zayn knows everything, since cats are already out of the bag.

 

They stay like this, seated on the couch, chatting about the old times. Zayn is refilling their glasses like a good host, never letting them stay empty for long. It’s late and Harry feels pleasantly buzzed and so warm and comfortable on top of that, that he regrets having to get up to go to the en suite bathroom. When he comes back the lights are faded and Zayn is standing in the corner of the room, looking out of the window. Harry stands in the doorway for a bit longer, admiring his posture and figure – he’s always thought that he holds himself like royalty. Harry goes over to him and hugs him from behind – it’s quite bold and forward move on his side, but he’s always been prone to Dutch courage. He doesn’t know what he expected Zayn would do, but he leans against his chest and whispers, ‘I missed you.’

 

Harry’s voice catches in his throat. It’s what he secretly yearned to hear. Zayn turns in his arms and their lips touch in a softest of kisses. It feels unearthly and they are both tentative, like any sudden movement could break this spell. They slide their lips together in slow movements, just feeling.

 

They break the kiss and Harry leans his head, touching his forehead to Zayn’s. ‘I missed you, too. So, so much,’ he rasps out, his voice changed from alcohol and emotions. Zayn surges forward and kisses him again heatedly. Harry goes with it and not even a minute later they’re stumbling onto the couch, snogging and groping, trying to get as much from each other as possible. Harry sucks on Zayn’s tongue causing him to groan loudly, and he can feel his cock twitch at that. Zayn is unbuttoning his shirt already and sucking kisses down his chest giving special attention, as he always did, to his nipples. Harry is writhing, trying to grasp at any part of Zayn closest to him, but failing. The combined forces of whiskey and Zayn leave him vulnerable.

 

Zayn lets out a choked sound. ‘Harry?’ He inquires softly, his voice gone all husky from arousal.

 

‘Yeah?’

 

He doesn’t know what to say. There’s… There’s a tattoo on Harry’s hipbone and it’s so unexpected Zayn can only stare and try to gather his thoughts together.

 

It’s his name, out there in the open, written in Arabic.

 

Harry raises his head and looks to where Zayn’s gaze got stuck and – _oh._

 

‘Umm,’ Harry swallows, not really sure what to do or say. _Hey, I couldn’t forget you, so I tattooed your name as some kind of therapy_? Or maybe, _what we had seemed so surreal that I needed a reminder that it happened_? Before he comes up with anything plausible to say that doesn’t sound awfully needy at the same time, Zayn’s on him, kissing him sloppily and dirtily on the mouth, in broad swipes of tongue, licking into his mouth and pinning him down with his hips. He undoes Harry’s trousers and pushes them until they fall down to his ankles.

 

‘Zayn,’ Harry sighs in between the kisses and his legs fall open, Zayn’s hips fitting in perfectly. There’s desire between the two of them, there’s no mistaking about that.

 

Zayn rubs his palms up and down Harry’s thighs. ‘I’ve always loved your legs…’

 

Harry somehow manages to rid Zayn of his shirt and unbutton his trousers before Zayn continues his onslaught on him like he’s a man on a mission. He moves his hands lower and lower, until he reaches his ass and squeezes it and almost at once runs his finger down his crack. Harry inhales sharply, turned on beyond belief, feeling his muscles down there twitch in anticipation. No one has touched him there but Zayn and – _uh_. He’s so lost in this feeling that he doesn’t notice that he has squeezed his eyes shut until he opens them in response to Zayn speaking to him.

 

‘Babe,’ he says huskily and places two fingers on his lower lip. ‘Get them wet.’

 

Harry sucks them into his mouth immediately, runs his tongue over them excessively to make them properly wet. Once he releases them with a pop, Zayn sits up and presses Harry’s knee to his chest with one hand, moving the other straight to his hole.

 

‘Aaaahh,’ is all Harry gets out when first finger pushes into him slowly but surely. The stretch burns and he can’t even spread his legs properly on the couch, but as soon as Zayn wedges his second finger in and wiggles them a bit, brushing his prostate in the process – well, it more than makes up for any inconvenience he’s experiencing. He’s letting out a seemingly endless stream of breathless moans, Zayn’s fingers moving repeatedly over the bundle of nerves, causing his cock to sputter precome between them. It feels so good Harry feels he might cry – and maybe he is, because Zayn is whispering soothingly into his ear. Harry doesn’t pretend to try to keep his sounds in, moaning and letting out huffs, squeezing Zayn’s biceps and pushing himself oh his fingers even more. It’s not long before he’s coming all over them, groaning out Zayn’s name.

 

***

 

Harry has always known what he wanted from life: career, money, power, glory... When he’s found himself in Zayn’s arms again, though, none of that seemed to matter anymore. It was a revelation to him last night, that Zayn still has that kind of effect on him, even after all those years apart. Harry feels that if he only could, he’d want to stay like this forever, safe and comfortable in Zayn’s arms.

 

The morning light starts to pour in through the window and Harry can’t help but admire the way it catches on his eyelashes. There are dark lines under his eyes, some wrinkles here and there, but those things are irrelevant – Harry knows that he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s Zayn and that’s how he looks now, and all of it is perfect. He brings his hand up and smoothes it gently down his cheek, the stubble feeling rough against his skin. He blushes slightly remembering last night and where else his skin was irritated by it. His nipples still sting a bit from all the pinching and biting, from where Zayn was thumbing and tugging them while he was fucking into him from behind at a torturously slow pace. He shivers only thinking about that – he’s a mess, there’s so many marks on his body… He’s glad that his suit will cover everything.

 

Zayn is still sleeping soundly despite Harry touching him for a while now, so he decides to step up his game by placing kisses on his face, neck, down his chest… Harry is licking leisurely on his nipple when Zayn finally stirs.

 

‘Hi,’ he says and his voice is so deliciously gravely from sleep. He smiles sweetly and throws his arm around Harry’s waist.

 

‘Hello there,’ Harry answers and caresses his cheek. ‘How did you sleep?’

 

‘Very good,’ he says and moves closer to Harry and kisses his neck. ‘And you?’

 

‘Never better,’ Harry says lowly and leans in to kiss him. They make out lazily for a good while until Harry’s alarm goes off. ‘It’s time to wake up,’ he comments and switches it off. Zayn nods.

 

‘You can shower first, I need a moment to wake myself,’ he offers and Harry leaves the bed reluctantly, even though he really has to. When he’s done, he walks out in the bathrobe provided by the hotel and Zayn goes in, looking as much asleep as he did when Harry left him.

 

Zayn must have ordered room service breakfast yesterday, because it arrives in the meantime and Harry is thankful that he’s half-dressed already. He pours himself some juice and puts on the rest of his clothes, frowning at how rumpled his shirt looks – if he wants to look presentable today, he’s going to need to head out soon.

 

‘What’s with the frown?’ Zayn asks as he steps out of the bathroom wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, his hair still wet. Harry looks up at him and takes in the sight of love bites he made yesterday all over his inner thighs while leading up to blowing him and he blushes a bit, sure that it will be ingrained in his mind forever. He doesn’t particularly mind.

 

‘I’d love to stay and have coffee with you, but I need to go to my hotel and change clothes.’

 

‘Ah, I see,’ he nods and comes to Harry and smooths out his forehead with a gentle gesture, and Harry embraces him.

 

‘Zayn?’ He asks, his mind made up about what he wants.

 

‘Yes?’

 

‘Maybe we… Maybe we shouldn’t have sex again.’

 

‘You’re right,’ he sighs and leans his head on Harry’s chest. It’s obvious that it’s equally hard for both of them to break the physical contact.

 

‘But you know what,’ he continues confidently. ‘Let’s keep in touch this time.’

 

Zayn’s only response is a broad smile before he nods enthusiastically and pulls out his phone to save Harry’s number.

 

 

It’s not even a whole month before their promise gets broken.

 

_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii! So, Christmas happened to me and I'm terribly late - I know, I'm sorry!
> 
> There are two people I'd like to thank for their input in this chapter: the ever lovely Zee, and even lovelier Maddy - you're the best xx.
> 
> Comments and kudos are making my heart soar, thank you!
> 
> If you want to talk/ ask anything/ pester me - do so at narcoticreading.tumblr.com


	13. Chapter 13

_

 

Ever since Berlin happened it’s like Harry and Zayn can’t stop talking with each other. They’re skyping, or calling, and texting – generally staying in touch any way they can. Not a day passes without a call or text between the two of them. It’s wonderful and disastrous simultaneously, because of the way they work together, always pushing the other to be more reckless – it’s liberating and problem-inducing at the same time. It gets to the point where they know each other’s schedules better than their families do, and well. Families. If they were simply keeping in contact it would be all good, but as it is, their face-to-face contact is not platonic at all, in spite of the promise they made. Even though Harry loathes to admit it, he’s spending more time with Zayn than he is with Alice, and if it wasn’t for the characteristics of his current employment she would have figured it out already. He sees it all but chooses not to notice.

 

Meeting with Harry when he’s in Brussels has become a constant for them. You could even say that Zayn has made a habit of visiting him while he’s there. Somehow, meeting on foreign soil makes them feel a lot less guilty, as if the distance justified some part of it. It’s easy enough for Zayn to find reasons to fly overseas. And besides, with how they are reaching the Continent with their company, there’s always something to be done abroad. Zayn worries sometimes, that Liam will notice how eagerly he catches each and every opportunity like that and will become suspicious, but so far Liam has only been grateful for this, because he hates leaving Sophia and Woodie alone. And so it continues, witness-free and alibi-full.

 

More often than not those visits end in passionate lovemaking. There’s a lot of things that Harry wants to try – some of them don’t work out all that nice or they don’t like them that much, but some are like hitting the jackpot, like face-fucking Harry mentioned one time. Zayn volunteered to be on the receiving end since Harry had a speech to make the next day, and Harry almost came right there and then, the thought of that kind of control turning him on beyond belief. Zayn gets half-hard just thinking about it, how Harry took what he wanted all the time reassuring him with gentle fingers on his cheek, before coming onto Zayn’s chin and chest. It was almost enough to tip him over the edge, too.

 

‘Just grab me and take me,’ Harry rasped out not even a minute later, urging Zayn to chase his own relief. He pushed his hips out to him. This invitation was way too delicious for Zayn to ignore. Soon, he was sheathed deep in him, moving slowly, mindful of the fact that he had just come.

 

Sex with Harry is always incredible, bringing Zayn to new levels of intimacy and trust and affection. It’s amazing like right then, when Harry still wanted him to have the best experience possible, even if he surely wasn’t comfortable. It makes Zayn’s heart ache in the most precious of ways. One of these days he’s going to spill the beans and say three words too many and honestly? He couldn’t care less. He’s not so cocky when he’s not balls deep in Harry and alone with Perrie, though. It’s fucked up and unfair and wrong on so many different levels… He knows all of this, but none of this is going to make him stop.

 

Zayn has never been too self-conscious about his age and he’s also never felt that it’s an issue for Harry. Sure, there are things he has to do now, like watch his diet and exercise regularly, but nothing really that serious. He has started to feel it more, however, especially during their nights together. He pays close attention and tries not to come too early in the evening, knowing that it won’t be as easy as it is for Harry to go again. Because of that Zayn sometimes spends hours just pleasing Harry, trying to bring him to unadulterated pleasure, making him come once or twice before finally making love to him. In fact, he loves doing it so much, that there are days when he’s yearning to hear the sweet sounds Harry makes while he’s eating him out. Zayn has to adjust his trousers at the mere thought of it.

 

Harry usually knows when Zayn is coming over to see him because it always comes up in their conversations and usually requires a bit of planning from both of them, but today Zayn wants to surprise him and so he kept his mouth shut when they talked yesterday, asking about only a bit to make sure he remembered Harry’s plans for the day correctly. It’s Friday and he has no real reason to fly anywhere, but Perrie has taken girls for a girls-trip to a spa resort and he decides to use his alone-time. It’s Friday and Zayn figures they can come back tomorrow together, with none the wiser.

 

He leaves his office right after Liam has gone home and drives to the airport by himself. Everything goes smoothly, the flight allowing him for a quick, rejuvenating nap. He has some time to wake himself up properly during the ride from the airport to the Parliament.

 

Once he’s out of the taxi, he checks his watch and sits down on a bench which is right in front of the main entrance. He flips through his e-mails on his phone to keep busy until Harry shows up. Zayn looks up from time to time to make sure that he doesn’t miss him – Harry isn’t expecting him, so it is possible that he may overlook him.

 

He doesn’t have to wait too long – about half an hour later Harry goes out of the building, his coat’s sides flopping in the wind, and he looks like straight out of a Hollywood movie, especially now when his hair is longer. Zayn ogles him shamelessly, as always stopping to appreciate his legs for a while. He catches the exact moment Harry notices him – he slows down his steps and looks closely to make sure, and then breaks into a jog until he’s next to him.

 

‘Zayn, what a surprise,’ Harry greets him and hugs him, his cheeks pink and eyes glistening. ‘You didn’t mention anything about coming over yesterday,’ he comments.

 

‘I wanted to surprise you,’ Zayn admits after pressing a kiss to his plush lips. ‘And it worked, apparently.’

 

Harry smiles brightly at him. ‘Come on then, let’s do something nice.’ It’s amazing how there’s not a trace of weariness on his face after a working day. Ah, youth.

 

‘Like go straight to your hotel room?’ Zayn teases and Harry hits his arm lightly.

 

‘Noooo, like actually enjoy the evening together. You’re not in a hurry, are you?’ Harry makes sure looking at Zayn searchingly. It’s Friday and weekends are usually strictly off-limits, but if Zayn is here it means he can. It never hurts to double-check, though.

 

‘I’m here just for you,’ Zayn responds keeping his voice low so that only Harry can hear that and Harry’s eyes grew a few shades darker at that. It’s the first time Zayn has absolutely no excuse to be where Harry is and it means more than any of them is willing to admit at this moment.

 

***

 

Zayn wakes up to Harry running his fingers up and down his spine. It’s lovely how gentle he is and how pleasant it is for Zayn. He would probably try to purr if he wasn’t so sleepy. He smiles before opening his eyes, letting himself have another few moments, staying on the verge of sleep and awaking. He moves closer to Harry and cuddles him. Harry laughs. ‘Hello there,’ he says quietly and Zayn knows he’s beaming. He only hums in response and hides his face in the crook of Harry’s neck.

 

‘Wake up, babe,’ Harry tries again and his chest rumbles with how low he’s speaking.

 

‘Don’ wanna,’ he replies like a petulant child and startles a bit right after. Until now it has always been Harry who was infamous for behaving like a grumpy toddler, not him.

 

‘Let’s shower together,’ Harry whispers and his tone is playful.

 

He can’t help but smile at him, he feels so warm and so good. ‘Yeah?’

 

‘Uhuh,’ Harry breathes into his ear and bites it lightly, then throws away the covers, gets up and goes to the bathroom. Zayn releases a sigh and opens his eyes. He considers staying in bed and maybe dozing off a bit, until he hears Harry moaning.

 

He’s up and in the shower in fifteen seconds flat. Harry smiles devilishly at him. ‘Will you help me wash my back?’ He asks hoarsely and Zayn rolls his eyes, but indulges him nonetheless. Their washing soon turns sensual and they’re trading kisses while touching and massaging each other, the shower gel making it easier to slide hands up and down.

 

In a matter of minutes they’re full on snogging and groping each other. It’s lazy how they move against each other and it’s steamy in the shower and it feels exquisite. In the end they come just from rutting against each other, smiling contentedly.

 

When they finally manage to dry and put on some clothes – Harry pulls on boxers, Zayn takes one of Harry’s shirts – the room service with breakfast arrives. They sit down in the kitchenette and start eating immediately, their shower shenanigans leaving them starved.

 

They’re done with croissants and halfway through the coffee, when suddenly there’s a knock on the door. They look at each other, their eyes widening. The hotel staff wouldn’t be bothering them, and neither of them ordered anything else… This can’t be good.

 

‘Who is it?’ Harry calls out, getting closer to the door and looking around for any piece of clothing to cover himself more. Zayn frantically grabs for his cigarettes lying on the counter and surges for the balcony, the thought that it has be somebody or something for Harry at the back of his mind, as no one knows he’s here.

 

Or, no one should.

 

‘Alice,’ he hears an answer and an unpleasant shiver runs down his back. His heart is pounding as he slips out on a balcony and crunches down. He swears under his breath because he can’t shut the door from the outside. He hopes Harry will save the day, _somehow_.

 

‘Hi honey,’ she says, and she’s surely smiling, it’s impossible not to when there’s half-naked Harry in front of you. ‘I thought I’d surprise you,’ this sentence sounds so ironic to him in this context, that he stands up and peeks through the window, thankful for the net curtains.

 

‘Alice,’ Harry says and hugs her. She looks beautiful and clearly has put quite a lot of thought into coming over here. She starts looking around and Zayn’s heartbeat picks up again – he decides that it’s best if he stays as hidden as possible, and crouches down again.

 

‘Were you just eating breakfast?’ Alice asks, looking behind her husband’s shoulder. Harry stiffens at that – there are two coffee cups on the table, there’s no mistake about what it possibly means. He needs a plan and he needs it _now_. He uses the first distraction technique that pops into his mind and kisses her, moving her so she doesn’t have the view of the table in the kitchenette.

 

‘Yeah, I was, but today it’s not good,’ he says when they break the kiss, putting up his best pout. ‘What do you say we go out for breakfast together? There’s this really nice place nearby, I think you’ll like it,’ he talks in a clear, loud voice so that Zayn can hear him, wherever he’s hidden.

 

She laughs. ‘Okay, show me your Brussels, then.’

 

Harry winks at her. ‘Let me just dress real quick and we’re out.’ He glances around the room and notices that the balcony’s door are slightly astray. _Zayn_ , he thinks. He has to get her away from here. ‘Come on, you’ll help me choose outfit.’

 

She raises one eyebrow at him and gives him a dubious look. ‘You really only want to get me into your bedroom.’

 

‘You see right through me,’ he comments and leads her away, taking her hand in his. He does a quick and efficient job of putting on whatever falls into his hands first while pretending to actually try to put an outfit together. ‘I’m ready,’ he announces and kisses her again. ‘Let’s go!’

 

He takes her hand in his again and leads them out as quickly as it is possible without raising suspicions.

 

***

 

 _Well_ , Zayn thinks bitterly, chain-smoking on the hotel balcony, the breeze leaving goosebumps on his legs and beneath the shirt since it’s quite loose on him, he’s _not the only one who wants to surprise Harry_. He smokes and waits until he can no longer hear their voices or steps around, before coming back into the room and collecting his things scattered across the apartment. He wonders if Alice really hasn’t noticed anything or if she’s just that good of an actress. He really hopes it’s the first as he packs swiftly and leaves.

 

He feels like he should feel way more guilty than he is. And that just confirms something that has passed through his mind recently – it’s high time he talked to Perrie.

 

***

 

Liam is playing with Woodie with the sole intent of keeping him occupied before his two favourite uncles arrive, so that he’s not running around excitedly, because excited Woodie is an accident-prone Woodie, and Liam would rather die than see his beloved son trip and hurt himself. Besides, he feels anxious as well, so having to look after his baby boy gives him something else to focus on. It’s the first time in almost eight years that Harry and Zayn will see each other. There were times when Liam wondered if he should admit to Zayn that he’s keeping in contact with Harry, and on top of that, that they’re meeting quite regularly and are actually friends. It’s been so long… So when Sophia suggested that they _should all be meeting together, honestly_ , Liam agreed at once, feeling that the time has come.

 

‘Hi, Soph,’ he hears Perrie’s voice coming from the hallway. Woodie squirms out of his hold and runs over there screaming “Auntie!”. He makes his way after his son.

 

‘Hey there,’ he says, reaching for Perrie’s coat.

 

‘Are these friends of yours already here?’ Perrie asks looking around curiously, Zayn smiling warmly at her side.

 

‘They should be here in a few minutes,’ Sophia answers. ‘Alice called me a few minutes ago and said they were on their way.’

 

‘Oh, that’s good,’ Perrie comments. ‘I can have a breather before introductions,’ she continues as she steps into the living room, Zayn following her with Woodie up in his arms.

 

True to their word, Alice and Harry arrive shortly after Maliks. Everyone present gathers in the hallway to greet them. Zayn smiles at Harry from where he stands slightly to the side, not yet participating in introductions.

 

‘Hi there,’ Harry greets him and it immediately gets their wives attention on them. Zayn has a fleeting thought that he shouldn’t be feeling so chill about that, as he smiles courteously at Harry and Alice.

 

‘You know Zayn?’ Perrie asks and tilts her head to the side in a gesture of curiosity. Her blue eyes have this uncanny ability of piercing and staring right through you, but Harry’s not a politician for nothing.

 

‘I was an intern at his company,’ Harry explains jutting his chin forward the way he does while arguing his cases, and speaking slowly in this relaxed manner of his. Zayn forces himself not to stare at his lips as they wrap around the sounds making up words. ‘So yes, we’ve met before.’

 

‘Hello Harry,’ Zayn nods at him and brushes his hand lightly against his while hanging his and Alice’s coats.

 

Dinner goes pretty nice, and Liam and Sophia are great hosts, keeping everyone engaged and comfortable. Everyone’s attention is so dispersed, that no one notices how Harry’s hand brushes over Zayn’s while reaching for salt, or how Zayn’s gaze lingers on Harry’s lips when he’s speaking. So when Liam catches them, well, it’s a rookie’s mistake on their part, really. They feel so comfortable and relaxed that they stop being overly careful. It happens when Liam suggests they moved to the sofas, and they all start moving at once. Zayn puts his hand at the small of Harry’s back then, completely out of habit. Harry turns to him and smiles like a sunshine, then a few seconds later he freezes and Zayn turns as well and looks up straight into Liam’s eyes.

 

‘Zayn, will you help me choose wine?’ Liam asks aloud and motions for Zayn to follow him into the kitchen. Zayn shoots Harry a worried look. They’re screwed.

 

Harry wants to follow them to eavesdrop _so badly_ , but he also knows that it would raise suspicions between their wives, so he stays put and does his best to engage in a conversation. Woodie is a welcome distraction – he’s poking Harry in the ribs every once in a while unintentionally as he tells Harry all about the book he’s read all by himself and gestures excitedly. It’s a great accomplishment and usually Harry wouldn’t stop praising him and would eventually ask him to read at least a page aloud for him, but can’t bring himself to do much, not now when both his and Zayn’s lives are at stake.

 

Well, it sounds a bit dramatic, but he honestly cannot imagine that Liam wouldn’t do _something_ with this knowledge. He looks to his right where Alice sits and converses with Perrie and Sophia.

 

‘Have you thought of having children?’ He hears Perrie ask. This question seems so surreal to him in this moment, but he listens in, too fixated on the talk probably going on in the kitchen right now to react.

 

Alice laughs. It’s one of the most beautiful sounds on the Earth (the other being Zayn’s snicker). ‘No, we haven’t.’

 

‘I couldn’t help asking looking how father-y he is with Woodie,’ Perrie justifies, pointing to where Woodie continues his story, held securely on Harry’s lap.

 

‘Oh, he’s always this way,’ Sophia pipes in. ‘Perfect father material, if you ask me.’

 

Harry turns to look at them and sends a winning smile their way. He doesn’t trust himself with his voice or words right now.

 

Alice doesn’t deserve to be hurt like this, to have her dignity stripped like this. Maybe they should have made a deal like Zayn and Perrie did those eight years ago. Maybe he should have tackled this issue somehow… He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, messing them beyond repair. It’s too late to wonder what he could have done to avoid this, too late for “maybes”. It’s time for damage control.

 

And if there’s one thing Harry Styles excels at, it’s turning things to his advantage.

 

***

 

‘You’re keeping in contact again, aren’t you,’ Liam states looking at Zayn closely, so as not to miss even the tiniest reaction or play of emotions on his features. He wishes Zayn would deny it, but he’s also not that naïve, not after what he’s witnessed. It’s like all those years have lulled him into a false sense of security with regards to the two of them.

 

‘Yes, we are,’ Zayn confirms and his voice is almost too calm, his stance too collected. Liam has known him for too long not to notice that he’s acting. He cringes.

 

‘Exactly how close are you?’ He asks pinching the bridge of his nose. Zayn looks away from him then, not saying anything, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. ‘Zayn,’ he repeats trying to get some kind of reaction out of him – a word, a gesture, whatever.

 

Zayn appears to be thinking through his options for a few moments, pacing around the counter. He stops eventually and looks at him. ‘So we’ve met a few times, so what?’ He answers and his tone is attacking, hissing. Liam can’t believe that it’s happening, that he’s gone about doing it again, his reaction indicating – .

 

‘What is it about this boy?’ Liam asks quietly, a plaintive note in his voice, even if his tone is half-exasperated and half-curious. He waits for an answer and minutes pass one by one, the only sound being that of the clock ticking, and just when he thinks he won’t get any, Zayn whispers.

 

‘Everything.’

 

Liam can’t say he expected that. In fact, it’s left him astonished. He stands alone in the middle of his kitchen long after Zayn went back to the living room.

 

_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters left, my dears! My baby is almost grown-up. Also, it has over 100 pages now.
> 
> Some issues came up lately and I didn't have time to write, but that shall be over now.
> 
> I'm forever grateful for all the kudos, comments and messages left in my ask - you're truly the best xx.
> 
> As always feel free to drop by narcoticreading.tumblr.com


	14. Chapter 14

_

 

 

It would seem that after Liam learned that Zayn and Harry were in touch again, meeting behind everyone’s backs, things between them far from innocent on top of that – well, it would seem that Zayn would have at least some thinking to do.

 

But he didn’t.

 

He has already known and planned for some time what he wants to do and has only been waiting for a suitable moment. However now, considering what has happened and how it could unfold without his immediate reaction, he just has no reason to stall any longer. The time has come to announce the result of quite a few sleepless nights of running different scenarios over and over in his head. The finality of his decision feels much lighter than he has expected.

 

He hasn’t contacted Harry since The Dinner, as he came to refer to this unfortunate event, namely dinner at Sophia and Liam’s, in his mind – or, he has, but only the same day to tell him that he needs to deal with the aftermath and that he needs time to do it. All of this was true – what he has planned to do, has to be handled delicately and Harry seemed to catch what he wanted to convey without further explanations, as he has always done. It was one of the things about Harry that truly appreciated about him. Whatever Harry’s reaction to Zayn’s deed might be, he has known it is long overdue to be done. With that in mind, he started wondering how to break the news to his wife.

 

He wanted it to be as civil and as polite as possible, so he spent a few days just jostling the words in his mind, looking the ones that were clear and respectful, straying from anything that could possibly sound ambiguous. He has respected Perrie since the day they met and it wasn’t about to change now.

 

That’s why he waited until the weekend came, which gave them both a fair chance to cool off before they had to be professional at work again.

 

It’s Saturday afternoon and they’re alone at home – Kaylah went shopping with her friends, and Aisha went out with Carter, Pam and Steven driving them to a cinema on the way for a dinner date as well.

 

It’s getting dark outside, even though afternoon has barely started, but they only lit one medium lamp, neither of them being a particular fan of the electric light. They sit across from each other, tea steaming in their cups, ticking clocks keeping it from being immersed in perfect silence.

 

‘Perrie,’ Zayn starts to get her attention, and sits up straight. He takes a deep breath both to calm himself a little and to gather all his courage. ‘There’s something I want to discuss with you.’

 

Perrie raises her gaze from where she has been flipping through some magazine, but doesn’t say anything, clearly waiting for him to continue. He takes a deep breath both to calm himself a little and to gather all his courage.

 

‘I want a divorce,’ he says and it sounds so detached that he can barely recognise his own voice.

 

‘What?’ Perrie asks quietly, furrowing her eyebrows in a way indicating that she is unsure if she heard correctly.

 

‘I want a divorce,’ Zayn repeats louder and more confident this time. The finality brought upon by these words hits him all of a sudden, his heart thumping in his chest. Perrie stares at him, unblinkingly for a few minutes.

 

‘Why?’ She finally asks, her eyebrows furrowed and face scrunched up in emotion thought there’s not even a note of trembling in her voice.

 

‘I just…,’ Zayn’s mouth feels dry and he feels that if he waits a moment longer he won’t be able to talk at all. ‘I fell in love with someone else.’

 

‘You what?’ Perrie asks, leaning towards him and frowning even more. ‘When did that happen?’

 

Zayn rakes one hand through his hair. It’s getting longer again, as Harry asked him not to cut it for some time. He scolds himself mentally for conjuring a memory of his lover so quickly and out of the blue. ‘This year,’ he mutters. He’s not sure if he should provide any details or if it’s better not to tell too much.

 

Perrie stands up and starts pacing around their living room. She’s distressed but doesn’t seem to be angry. Zayn would wonder why if he didn’t have other things on his mind right now.

 

‘Who is it?’ She finally asks and yes, that is something she should know. He clears his throat before answering.

 

‘Harry Styles.’

 

That makes her stop. ‘This Euro-MP we met two days ago?’ She inquires incredulously. ‘How did that even happen?’

 

‘We’ve met before – ’

 

‘Clearly,’ Perrie interrupts him and snorts. ‘You know what, I don’t want to know,’ she waves her hand dismissively and bites her lip. It’s Zayn’s turn to be confused – he was _sure_ she would grill him for more details. He doesn’t have to wait long for an explanation, though.

 

‘Zayn, I need to tell you something, too,’ she says, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Something is definitely bothering her.

 

He looks up to meet her eyes. ‘What is it?’

 

‘I’ve been seeing someone…’ she starts and licks at her lips, nervously. It adds up, then, why she hadn’t shouted or mentioned fighting for their marriage. Zayn spares a second to think how ironic it is. ‘Ugh, I’ll bring wine for us,’ she throws in his direction before turning on her heel and disappearing for a moment.

 

She comes back with wine and two glasses, and immediately fixes them for them to drink. The wine is still sloshing in hers when she takes the first sip and launches on a story of her affair. She talks longer than Zayn did, but vaguely enough that the amount of details they have decided to share with each other counts up to roughly the same.

 

They fall silent after that, the reality of the words spoken and secrets revealed sinking in. Zayn can’t help but think how similar they are, after all. It used to be a factor in them having a great partnership and now it affects them again, in a way probably neither of them have foreseen.

 

‘You will have to move out,’ Perrie states after a while, ever so calm, a bit of sadness in her eyes. When Zayn fell in love with her, he used to wax poetics about her eyes, blue as a sky on a spring day. It’s obvious for him that the house will stay with her. He has already bought himself another one, placed near London, but still isolated enough that it’s tranquil around.

 

‘Yeah, I agree with you.’ He can’t imagine staying in the house they’ve _designed_ together, with the sole purpose of it being perfect for their family.

 

‘Do you have somewhere you could move?’ She asks as an after-thought.

 

Zayn hesitates a little. ‘I’ve a bought an estate recently…’ he trails off and takes a sip of wine.

 

It startles her a little. ‘How long have you been planning it exactly?’

 

‘Not that long, really,’ he says calmly.

 

‘You’re trying to be considerate now,’ she accuses him, but there’s no heat or strong emotions behind her words.

 

He shrugs. ‘I _have_ planned it, there’s frankly not much more I can add.’

 

Perrie nods at that. ‘You’re right. It’s irrelevant, anyway.’ She reaches for the bottle and fixes their glasses, draining the bottle till the last drop. ‘To future?’ She asks, raising her glass in toast.

 

‘To future.’ He nods and clinks their glasses together.

 

Later that night he wonders why he has stressed so much over it. Whatever happens next, whatever route his life will take – it all depends on Harry.

 

***

 

 

If there’s one thing that Harry hates most about adult life, is that you always have to cope with the consequences of everything you do. It’s inevitable, like taxes.

 

Things have this irritating quality of not going according to plans. Harry has had a very clear and straightforward plan for the next few years after graduating. The plan that also encompassed some of Alice’s plans, assuming they were a team, like the one of her becoming a mayor of London. She needs him to achieve that. And not because she needs his help or guidance in any of relevant aspects, no – she is resourceful and smart enough by herself, there’s no doubt about it. She needs him, because voters wouldn’t vote for a woman this young _and_ of single status – she wouldn’t stand a chance.

 

Liam hasn’t told anything about what he has found out to either Alice or Perrie. Harry doesn’t know what happened between him and Zayn, what kind of deal they struck, but Liam promised to keep this piece of information to himself.

 

It calmed him, but not for long. Liam knows now and there’s no way to tell for sure that nobody else does, he realises that much, no matter how trustworthy he is.

 

Even with Liam’s word, he’s a wreck, more or less. When he’s at home he’s all jumpy and grumpy. Everytime Alice asks him about his plan for stay in Brussels, or if he is free for the weekend – he frets and looks for hidden meanings. The only thing that saves him from blowing his cover is his ability to maintain a straight face. Although it makes him seem withdrawn and muddle-headed. He knows one thing for sure at this point – he cannot live like this, he doesn’t want to ever live through a situation like this again.

 

Zayn warned him that he may not contact him for a while when they were leaving Liam’s house that unlucky Thursday, and it’s for the best, really – he has to fit the pieces of his life together again by himself. He has been putting it off for the last six months and now the situation forces him to.

 

It’s eerie how the weather seems compatible with his moodiness. The rain is falling down, its drops drumming on the window sill, the wind howling through every crook and cranny of their apartment’s walls. He has recently taken to sitting all by himself in an armchair, in a barely-lit living room, just staring ahead and thinking, hoping the right solution is only one thought away from him.

 

Today, he’s just as nervous. His hands tremble when he lights another cigarette. He inhales the smoke deeply and keeping it in until his lungs hurt before exhaling, in hope of the tobacco taking effect sooner. He pauses to think how ironic it is, that he is engaging in an action he has always been so against, but apparently it is what he does searching for a stress relief now.

 

He takes out his phone and yet again stares at the screen, debating whether to call Niall and talk it over with him or not.

 

He pockets it after a few minutes and finishes the cigarette.

 

***

 

Days pass and Zayn still hasn’t told anyone what has decided to do. He has thought that Liam would be constantly reminding him of _that_ matter, checking up on him and his doings, maybe even requesting he did something, but so far nothing of that sort has happened. Zayn would have hated if he had done it, so he’s definitely not complaining. However, he knows that he should talk with Liam and assure him that he has finally decided to do the responsible thing and stopped playing around. That’s why in the middle of the day, he sticks his head into his friend’s office. Liam is stooped on his chair, engrossed in whatever he’s reading through.

 

‘Hey,’ he stage-whispers to get his attention. ‘What do you say to drinks after work?’

 

Liam raises his head and blinks at him, clearly pulled out from deeper focus. ‘Uh, alright?’ he says after a few seconds.

 

‘Great. I’ll come by later,’ Zayn says and smiles at his friend before disappearing noiselessly.

 

‘So, I’m all ears,’ Liam says as soon as they are seated in a booth, both with pints in their hands, just like during uni times.

 

It’s been ages since any of them drank something as simple as beer, seeing as different get-togethers they have been attending were rather filled with some fancy and expensive alcohols. Zayn downs a healthy gulp from his pint, just for a moment feeling like his younger self. He hopes the words will come easier to him now.

 

They don’t. At least not the ones he would want to use. He decides on being straightforward and just getting it over with.

 

‘I’ve filed for divorce,’ he says quietly, clasping his hands together on his lap.

 

‘I- what?’ Liam looks at him, his eyes searching Zayn’s face for anything that would tell him that he heard it right. Zayn keeps his gaze, without blinking or moving any facial muscle. ‘You’re serious,’ Liam states and the shock is clear in his voice.

 

‘Very,’ Zayn confirms. He can already tell that it won’t be an easy talk. The truth is, nothing about this situation is easy.

 

‘Is this because of Harry?’ He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. Zayn thinks he probably can’t wrap his mind around the fact that Zayn _might_ be risking almost everything in his life for someone eighteen years younger than him.

 

He hesitates. He doubts that he would have done it if Harry hadn’t come back into the picture, but that would mean putting all the blame on him – at least, in Liam’s eyes. ‘Partly,’ he responds, not really wishing to go into details, which would surely betray him.

 

Liam sighs and slumps in his seat. ‘It never crossed my mind that you would do this…’

 

Zayn winces. He doesn’t know what to say. It’s hard to respond to something like that, so he doesn’t say anything.

 

‘Are you sure about this?’ Liam asks him after a while. His eyes are full of concern. Zayn smiles wryly.

 

‘Yes. Perrie doesn’t deserve to be with someone who no longer loves her,’ he adds, feeling the need to give more context to the situation.

 

‘But didn’t you think,’ Liam starts , ‘that you could just stop?’

 

‘No,’ he answers immediately. ‘I can’t stop. I don’t _want_ to stop.’ It’s Zayn’s turn to rake his hand through his hair. ‘I love him. I want _everything_ with him.’

 

Liam looks stricken. Zayn decides to continue and to be completely honest. ‘I’ve been considering divorce for the last two months.’

 

That seems to surprise Liam even further. ‘Before I found out?...’

 

‘Yes,’ Zayn admits softly, his eyes downcast. ‘Look, Liam, I don’t expect you to get it, or to agree with me. I just want you to know that it’s the only decision I could make considering the circumstances.’ He darts a look at his friend, finding that he doesn’t look as confused and shocked anymore. It gives him a glimmer of hope. ‘Harry completes me. He’s my good days and my bad days, my rationality and irrationality at the same time. Sometimes I think he’s too much for me to take, but it’s not true – we’re good for each other, we make it work.’

 

Liam is no longer frowning at him and looks pensive instead. Zayn could tell him about Perrie’s romance and redeem himself, but somehow it felt wrong. It wasn’t his secret to tell and considering that Perrie has granted him her silence until the things between them resolve finally, it would be really petty of him to do so.

 

Liam is the one to break the silence between them. ‘All those years ago, when you were together… Did you feel the same way?’

 

It’s Zayn’s turn to be surprised. ‘I knew that he was dear to me,’ he says. ‘But divorce wasn’t an option for me then.’

 

‘I can’t say that I get you… But I’m glad you’re trying to make things right,’ Liam scratches at his beard restlessly. ‘ Even if it’s not the direction I would go in.’

 

Zayn smiles at him, noticing a glimmer of light in their conversation. ‘You’re my best friend, Liam. I would hate myself if this put a strain on our relations.’

 

Liam looks him in the eye and says, ‘Me too, Zayn. Me too.’

 

***

 

The day Zayn steps out from court as a single man again, the only thing on his mind is to call Harry.

 

They haven’t seen each other in person for the last two months, due to the fact that they both were exceptionally busy, but they called and Skyped whenever they could. Both Zayn’s and Harry’s birthday passed without proper celebration between them, however that didn’t stop them from exchanging presents. Zayn gave Harry a golden Rolex watch, and Harry bought him a painting – a hunting scene in a Romantic style. Zayn has hung it on the wall in his new house as soon as he got it.

 

He decides on sending Harry a text eventually, not sure if he wouldn’t disturb him at work with his call.

 

_Can you meet me at my apartment?_

 

With his impulse out of the way, he helps Perrie into the car and they drive together to pick up their daughters for the promised dinner.

 

Both Perrie and Zayn insisted that their daughters went to school and went about their days as normally as possible. Neither Aisha nor Kaylah were particularly happy about it, wanting to be with them, but they listened either way. They decided not to disclose their infidelity to them, opting for a slightly vaguer explanation – it worked for now, but from how Aisha was acting, keeping Zayn at distance, it was clear that she has already drawn her own conclusions. Kaylah probably has done so as well, although it was harder to tell, what with her being more in control of her moods and em0tions.

 

The dinner is only a little stilted, which surprises Perrie and Zayn the same. All of them have shown a lot of good-will in keeping it that way.

 

After the dinner they part their ways and it feels strange, as it is by no means their last goodbye, but an end of an era. A very good era, in Zayn’s opinion, and his gut tells him that Perrie would probably agree with him.

 

He’s on his way to his beloved London apartment when he chances a look at his phone. His heart skip a beat when he notices that there is an answer.

 

_Nostalgic, much? I’ll meet you there, I’d love to see this place again_

 

Zayn smiles, his heart filling with hope for a new beginning. It is partly why he suggested that they meet there – a place where everything between them started and came to life, every room remembering their quiet nights in, their conversations, their kisses, everything and anything that happened between them all those years ago. It hasn’t lost its significance for him and he doubts if it ever will.

 

He has only managed to hang his coat when he hears a knock on the door. He turns so quickly that he almost trips. Judging by Harry’s face when he opens the door, the sentiment is reciprocated.

 

‘Zayn,’ he sighs as he all but falls into his arms, hugging him tightly. Zayn can’t help but chuckle at him, at how he tries to make himself smaller just to fit in his arms. He closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy it for a minute – Harry’s familiar scent, the tickling of his unruly hair against his cheek…

 

Harry shakes him off his musing as he steps out of the embrace and tugs Zayn’s hand insistently. ‘Come on,’ he urges him and leads the way straight to the bedroom he used to call his own, dropping his clothes as he goes. Zayn’s mind goes cloudy with need.

 

They fall between the sheets faster than they fell into each other’s arms mere minutes earlier.

 

It’s already dark outside when they slump exhausted on the pillows. If the circumstances were different, Zayn would be worried about his heart rate, but as it is, he presses a soft kiss to Harry’s temple, as Harry continues drawing patterns on his abdomen with gentle fingers.

 

‘Do you think – ’ he starts when his breathing returned to normal. It’s obvious from the long pause that it takes a lot for Zayn to voice whatever he has thought of. ‘Do you think we could actually be together?’ He says all of this in one go, one word melting into another, looking up to meet Harry’s eyes. ‘Just – as in a relationship?’ Zayn can feel his face burning and it’s ridiculous, he’s middle-aged man for God’s sake!

 

Harry’s eyes are wide. He swallows around the gulp in his throat. His stomach has just done a triple somersault, and not in a pleasant way.

 

‘Zayn, I –,’ he looks around the room hopelessly to buy himself some time. ‘I’m not ready for this.’

 

Only silence follows his words.

 

‘It’s not just us that will be affected by a decision like this – it’s your kids, our wives… There’s just too many people in our lives that would get hurt in the process.’

 

Zayn casts his eyes down, unable to look at Harry anymore.

 

‘I know exactly how many people would be hurt and how much I would hurt them,’ he says quietly, his voice laden with first-hand experience. He looks Harry in the eye, his expression blank. ‘Unlike you, I’ve actually thought this through,’ he utters and his voice is cold, his tone biting. It has to be, his voice would break otherwise. He throws the duvet away, gets up and takes his clothes from the floor.

 

‘Zayn, please,’ Harry says softly, and it’s clear he’s on the verge of tears himself. ‘Let’s just talk it through.’

 

Zayn stops from where he’s getting dressed and looks over his shoulder at him. ‘I think you’ve said enough, though,’ he gets even more distant, going around the bed and collecting his things hastily. ‘You’re not ready and I’m not going to force you into anything. But I’m not going to stay, either.’

 

‘Zayn, baby – ,’ Harry starts pleading with him. He leaps forward and grabs one of Zayn’s hands in his. ‘Please…’

 

‘Harry,’ he tugs his hand away and sighs, feeling his cold façade crumbling. ‘You have to understand me, too. I’m 45. I don’t want to play games anymore.’

 

‘It’s not a game,’ Harry’s voice breaks and he looks close to tears, his eyes red. Zayn thinks how unreal it is – he’s just broken his heart.

 

‘I love you,’ he says turning one last time in the doorway. ‘You’ll always be in my heart,’ it’s the last thing he says before walking out of the door, this time for good.  
  
  
_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this later than planned, but I wanted to be considerate to the characters and so I was constantly rethinking and changing it part by part.
> 
> There's one more chapter ahead of us - how do you think, how it is going to end?
> 
> Thank you to everyone who comments and who ever gave kudos for this story xx.
> 
> Come talk to me at narcoticreading.tumblr.com :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything wraps up in this chapter :)
> 
> I just wanted to let you know how great a journey it was for me to write a story and finish it. It has never crossed my mind before, that I would get so much positive feedback, that anyone besides myself would get invested in a story I'm writing. So I want to thank each and everyone of you who was kind enough to leave kudos, to write comments (or just one), and to find me on tumblr - it's wonderful and I'm really grateful for it. It often made my days xx. Without it I'd probably never get this far with it.
> 
> I've been my own beta the whole time, so that's the reason some sentences sometimes doesn't sound quite right.
> 
> Enjoy!

___

 

 

_New Mayor: Atchison-Styles swipes in with almost 68% in favour. “Capital city has special needs and I intend to tend to all of them.”_

_New tax bill passed in the Parliament. Entrepreneurs are patting each others’ backs in satisfaction._

_Lobby getting stronger – should we be concerned or not?_

 

***

 

‘Have you seen my emerald cufflinks?’ Harry calls out in the direction of bedroom, looking through his jewellery for the umpteenth time. He could swear he has seen them somewhere only a few minutes ago.

 

Alice goes out of there fully-clothed already, her hair done in a smart bun. ‘Have you tried the box on the mantelpiece?’ She asks as she fiddles to clasp one of her diamond earrings – they’re simple squares, but the way they catch light and reflect it is dazzling. Her whole look speaks of professionalism and refinement, and rightfully so.

 

He looks where she has directed him to and yes, here they are – the silver and emerald cufflinks his parents gave to him last Christmas. He puts them on with ease coming from years of practice, his posh upbringing for once proving to be of use. Being The Husband of the youngest mayor of London apparently makes you just as desirable to photograph and interview. However, he is not complaining and he has already used it to his advantage as thanks to being recognised he has managed to begin working with some of the most renowned businessmen in the country.

 

The way their careers head now, it has made them realize that they need to start depending on other specialists to stay on top of their game. This is the reason why Harry has scheduled a meeting with PR specialist, Miss Edwards-Johnson, before his interview for Financial Times. He still feels a bit dizzy thinking about it – his childhood dream coming true.

 

‘Have you found them?’ Alice asks and hugs him quickly from behind as she goes past him to collect her various official-looking papers into her briefcase. It’s only a tiny part of the stacks she has in her office. Harry has no idea how she navigates through them _and_ keeps them organised.

 

‘Yes,’ he says and smiles. ‘They were exactly where you suggested.’

 

‘Good,’ she steps into her high heels and turns to him. ‘Are you ready to go?’

 

They fell into a habit of driving together whenever they both are in London.

 

‘Yeah, come on.’

 

Harry takes a driver seat but only because it’s one of the days Alice wants to catch up on what the press deemed worthy enough to report. They switch most of the time, following an unspoken rule that whoever feels more alert sits behind the wheel. It takes about half an hour for them to arrive at the city hall. Alice presses a quick kiss to his cheek and is on her way, a security guard a step behind her.

 

_One day she’ll dump my cheating ass_ , Harry reflects fleetingly before reversing into the traffic. He still has some time before his meeting, so he decides to swing by his office first. There’s always something that still needs to be done, or news that need confirmation.

 

He manages to arrive early and he decides to drink another coffee as he waits. He’s itching for a smoke, but the hotel’s lounge has a strict non-smoking policy and he doesn’t fancy making the front page of the Mirror, so he settles on fiddling with his phone – another bad habit of his, but it still beats being thrown out of the hotel.

 

He looks through the e-mails he has exchanged with the journalist from Financial Times to refresh his memory about the details that has been presented to him. He puts his phone away and looks up just in time to see a woman approach him. He stands up, ready to greet Mrs Edwards-Johnson, and then their gazes meet.

 

Harry blinks.

 

He blinks again.

 

There, right in front of him is – it’s Zayn’s wife, Perrie. To say that he is surprised would be an understatement. She looks top notch, in a fitted pencil skirt, her hair in some fancy do up. What surprises him even more, is that she doesn’t seem to be startled even a tiny bit.

 

‘Hello Mr Styles,’ she greets him and gives him a firm handshake.

 

‘Mrs Edwards-Johnson,’ he nods and pulls out a chair for her.

 

He is shocked, there is no point in beating around the bush. He glances at her left hand and sure enough, the wedding band is there. The surname she gave him though, it doesn’t add up at all. Has she changed it? Or maybe she wasn’t “Malik” at all. Harry is antsy – he hasn’t contacted Zayn, or even Liam, after… Well, after his and Zayn’s argument, and with how busy both him and Alice were, it wasn’t too hard to just tune down on meetings with Paynes.

 

Perrie must sense that he’s startled, but she doesn’t mention it, staying professional and treating him like she would any other client of hers, at least that’s what he assumes. Eventually, Harry grabs a hold of himself and focuses on the task at hand – which is to prepare so that his interview goes as well as possible.

 

They are similar in a way they both stick to the heart of the matter, working out the most important issues before moving on to details, which makes their meeting very effective. Harry feels a lot more prepared and definitely satisfied that he has thought of arranging a meeting like this. He would have never thought of some of the things Perrie mentioned. By the end of their meeting Harry has almost forgotten his initial internal struggle, so he is startled when, after they wrap up the last issue, Perrie comments offhandedly:

 

‘We got divorced, you know,’ she says just as she gets up to leave. ‘Johnson is my second husband’s name.’

 

Harry looks up at her in surprise, not having expected her to say anything like that. It’s clear to him then, that she knows perfectly well that he and Zayn were involved. She doesn’t offer any more information though, and leaves before he can ask anything.

 

He goes through the motions for the remainder of the day, feeling numb and absent, his thoughts revolving around what Perrie has told him. They got divorced. Zayn is no longer married. He may be single… He ruminates, trying to grasp what it means to him, biting the inside of his cheek so hard it draws blood and not really noticing the world around him. He’s restless. Unfocused. Absent-minded.

 

It’s not surprising that he can’t sleep at night. He tosses and turns, feeling one time too hot, the other too cold to doze off, his mind too stuck in thinking in circles to let him rest. He’s tired, so, _so_ tired, but the sleep isn’t coming to him. So he lays on his back, staring at the ceiling and wishing he could somehow slow his brain down. Today’s revelations have affected him greatly, there’s no doubt about that. If he didn’t push it down earlier, his emotions would have been all over the place. He sighs and rubs his face.

 

‘What’s wrong?’ Alice asks him, her voice quiet and sleepy. He must have startled her out of sleep.

 

‘Can’t sleep,’ he whispers back and tries to stay still for her sake. Soon, her breathing evens out and he gets out of the bed slowly then, careful not to disturb her. He chooses to go to the kitchen – the only room on the other side of their apartment, which ensures that he won’t have to be worried about waking Alice.

 

The lamp post outside is illuminating the room, and Harry is glad for it for once, too tired to handle too much light, but needing some to go about. He pokes the coffee maker and sure enough, there’s still some cold coffee there. He pours it into one of the mugs and checks the window sill for cigarettes. It has become one of his smoking places because he likes the view here, and he’s glad to find there’s a half-finished pocket of cigarettes between the pot plants. He takes a gulp from his mug before lighting up one.

 

He can’t help but let his thoughts stray to the times when he used to look out of the window with Zayn by his side. He remembers particularly clearly the first time they gazed down on the streets, admiring city at night on the day of his birthday. The evening date was perfect, just like the night they spent afterwards, making love to each other for the first time. He exhales heavily and gulps down the rest of the coffee, savouring its bitter taste on his tongue.

 

He also remembers painfully well the day Zayn suggested them trying a relationship. He still thinks about it every now and then, feeling shame and embarrassment everytime he remembers his antics that day. He shut it down so easily, without sparing it a second thought, so convinced it was the only right thing to do. He often wonders, tries to think up different ways in which he could have reacted – ways that didn’t make Zayn walk out of his life as a result.

 

Sometimes he stops scrolling through his contacts just to stare at his name, finding himself being unable to either call him or delete his number. He shifts uncomfortably thinking about it, his number still saved on his phone, and reaches for a second cigarette. He lights it and cracks one of the windows open, the December night’s chill making goosebumps rise all over his skin. He hugs his arms around himself and throws his head back, inhaling smoke mixed with surprisingly fresh night air.

 

He hopes it will help him clear his head.

 

***

 

‘Dad, you absolutely _have to_ see the looks from my last photoshoot!’ Kaylah exclaims right after greeting Zayn and he chuckles following her into his house. ‘You’ll _love_ them!’

 

It has been a month since they last saw each other and he is curious about anything and everything his daughter was up to. She makes her modelling dream come true and Zayn sometimes thinks he’s going to burst with pride.

 

‘I can’t wait to see them, my supermodel daughter,’ he says and kisses her forehead. ‘Go to my study and use my laptop. I’ll be right there with coffee for us – almond latte okay with you?’

 

‘It’s my favourite! You’re the best, dad,’ she smiles at him again, then trots into his study. Zayn sets a coffeemaker on and prepares a tray.

 

When he goes in, Kaylah is already looking at some photo. Well, staring really, considering how she’s frowning, never looking away. Zayn comes closer and sets the tray next to her.

 

‘Was it him?’ Kaylah asks pointing to a photo. ‘The person you fell in love with?’

 

It’s a photograph of Harry sitting on a park bench, looking at the sky, his hands stuffed into his coat’s pockets. Zayn remembers that day – they were actually in England for once, walking around the Regent’s Park and talking about what they wanted from life. Zayn took this photo on a whim, wanting so much to be able to look at Harry even when they weren’t together. He forgot that he has left it open.

 

He wants to ask her “what do you mean?”, but that would be insulting to either of them.

 

‘Yes,’ he answers simply, though with how long he stayed silent it has already been obvious to Kaylah.

 

‘Why didn’t you get together with him after you and mum divorced?’ She asks and looks at him.

 

Zayn takes a sip from his glass and settles in a chair next to Kaylah. ‘I wanted to. It didn’t depend solely on me, though,’ he explains and allows himself a momentary glance at the photo.

 

‘Oh.’

 

‘So how about these photos you wanted to show me?’ He asks, sitting closer to her and closing the window. ‘I’m really curious about them.’

 

Kaylah hugs him quickly before putting her flash drive in and unfolding a story of how the photoshoot went. Zayn can’t help but smile and get excited with her, as she relays various events to him.

 

He’s got almost everything he wants.

 

***

 

Over the next few days Harry is weighing pros and cons of coming out clean to Alice about feelings he harbours for Zayn and wondering what course of action he should take. Those last days, the way he has been feeling, constantly fighting with himself, it has made him realize that he won’t be able to keep everyone happy, whatever he decides to do. And well, isn’t his happiness equally as important as other people’s?

 

With that in mind, he decides to take action, determined to stay true to himself. And so, he tackles the issue right away, as soon both he and Alice are home.

 

‘I have something to tell you,’ Harry says and Alice nods, pouring hot water into her cup. She knows something has been boiling up considering Harry’s recent nicotine intake. She’s also disturbingly good at telling when he’s not telling her something.

 

‘Yeah, me too,’ she says and sits down with a cup of tea. This surely won’t nice, so she might as well get comfortable. ‘Go on, you first.’

 

Harry looks at her hands hugging the cup, suddenly wishing he had something to hold on, too. ‘I think… I want to be with someone else.’

 

He darts a look at her and she seems more uncomfortable than shocked. Has she suspected it? Has Liam not been as discreet as he claimed to be? Harry doesn’t know if he should continue, so he waits for her to speak.

 

‘Are you cheating on me?’ Alice asks after a minute or so. It’s an understandable question, but somehow it still punches the breath out of him.

 

‘I was,’ he admits, casting his eyes down.

 

They stay silent, looking everywhere but at each other. These are possibly the worst minutes of his life. Finally Alice clears her throat.

 

‘It’s my turn to drop the news, right?’ She asks and her voice is unusually high. She flexes her fingers a few times, then fixes her hair, clearly anxious. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she admits after a long pause.

 

Harry stares at her, his expression unreadable. His heart is beating wildly in his chest.

 

‘I’ve just found out the other day,’ she continues, drawing patterns with her fingers on her steaming cup. ‘And I want to keep it.’

 

Harry snaps to attention at that. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to react. He wanted to get it over with and run to Zayn, asking him for one more chance…

 

‘I’ll agree to the divorce, though,’ she carries on talking. ‘We have slipped away from each other so much…I’m not naïve enough to think that the baby will change anything between us.’

 

This admission feels like a slap to his face and Harry looks down. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mutters. ‘I know we said we would be different – ’

 

‘Harry,’ she interrupts him and her voice sounds incredulous. ‘You can’t honestly be saying that you believe we would stick forever to what we promised to each other as twenty-year-olds.’

 

Harry shrugs.

 

‘Of course, you’ll have to wait,’ she continues. ‘None of our careers can handle something like this if the press caught a whiff of that. So here’s the deal – you play happy husband and daddy-to-be in the public eye, and you can do whatever you wish in private, provided you’re discreet.’

 

‘I won’t have to play, you know,’ Harry says quietly, moving to stand beside her. ‘I’m not unhappy with you. And the baby – it’s wonderful news.’

 

She shakes her head. ‘I shouldn’t be believing you,’ she says looking up to meet his eyes. ‘But inexplicably, I do.’

 

Harry embraces her and kisses her chastely. ‘I’ll be there for you,’ he says, trying to sound reassuring. She measures him with a sceptical look.

 

‘But not _with_ me,’ she points out bitterly. She’s got every right to.

 

‘Alice – ’

 

‘I may have agreed to it, but don’t expect me to be alright with it right away,’ she says. ‘I trust you’ll be tactful enough not to flaunt your new romantic interest in front of me.’

 

‘I would never,’ Harry promises. ‘You are aware though, that it’s likely you will meet.’

 

‘Thank you for spelling it loud and clear for me,’ she comments wryly.

 

Harry bites his lip. ‘I’m sorry,’ he shakes his head a little. ‘It’s just – I’m serious about this.’

 

‘I believe that you are. I doubt you’d be risking it otherwise.’

 

She’s right about that, too. Harry’s gaze falls to her stomach. ‘So, the baby?’ He asks, curious. She smiles and launches on to tell him how she has learned that she is carrying their offspring.

 

***

 

Finding out where Zayn lives turns out to be way easier than Harry has expected. He learns that much desirable piece of information during the first phone call he makes – Liam tell him it almost right away, as soon as he states his intentions and it’s a change in his attitude he has never thought he would experience. Harry hops into his car and leaves at once.

 

He’s driving quickly, speeding where the traffic lights are not as frequent anymore, suddenly burning with need to be at his destination already. The streets are almost empty and he couldn’t be more glad for it. He has waited long enough – it is high time he fought for his love.

 

He gets there, eventually, his heartbeat so strong it’s almost deafening to his ears in the silence and stillness surrounding Zayn’s house. He knocks on the door and takes a step back, standing on the stair and gathering his surroundings. Despite being this close to the city, it looks very village-y in here. He can see the appeal – there is some sort of woodlet on the left side of the house and a vast area behind it, other houses looming in the distance. He is still looking around when the front door crick softly. He turns so quickly his coat sides make a swishing sound, just in time to see surprise flashing through Zayn’s features.

 

‘I came here, because I _need_ to know,’ Harry says before Zayn can get anything out of his mouth. ‘Can you love me again?’

 

Zayn stands in the doorway as if he was unable to move. He’s wearing a red Christmas sweater with a reindeer pattern, his beard is not as trimmed as usually, his hair is longer, too, wisps of it reaching below his ear – Harry takes him in, bearing in mind that this might be the last opportunity to do so. Around him snow begins to fall.

 

‘I know I’ve screwed up really badly,’ seeing as Zayn is still silent, Harry decides to continue. ‘And I know a lot of time has passed, but Zayn,’ he stops to lick at his lips nervously, and they’re already chapped from the weather. ‘I have never wanted anyone in my life more than I want you.’ He’s looking him straight in the eye, hopeful to convey that he’s saying the truth. Zayn stares at him, tugging at his sleeve. Harry takes a step forward, needing to see how he’ll react to that.

 

‘I love you,’ he says quietly, his eyes downcast, and this is what shakes Zayn out of his stupor. He steps out on his porch, reaching his hand out to Harry and touches his cheek. Harry covers his hand with his own, and turns his head to press a kiss right in the middle of his palm.

 

‘Harry,’ he sighs and closes his eyes. He’s so beautiful, Harry’s afraid his heart may burst with how much he feels right now.

 

‘I’m here,’ Harry moves forward and wraps him in his arms. ‘And I love you,’ he repeats, louder this time. Zayn sags against him, murmuring “I love you, too,” against the skin of his neck. Harry moves away then, his arms loosely around love of his life.

 

‘Yeah?’ He rasps out, blinking away the tears that threat to fall. Zayn smiles and nods, and it’s like sun has come out from behind the clouds. Zayn kisses him then and Harry kisses him back, holding onto him like a man who’s life has just started again.

 

Zayn breaks the kiss and lifts Harry’s chin with gentlest of touches. ‘Don’t you dare leave me again,’ he says fiercely.

 

‘Never,’ Harry breathes out. Zayn nods once and tugs him inside his house.

 

 

_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should let me know if you liked the ending!
> 
> Also, if you're wondering, there are two more fics I'm working on, so you'll hear from me some more :)
> 
> I'm at narcoticreading.tumblr.com if you ever fancied a chat :)


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